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THE DEATH OK (i01,A O 



THE 


BOY SLAVES. 


BY 


CAPT. MAYNE REID, 

AUTHOR OP *^THE DESERT HOME,” “THE OCEAN WAIFS,” ETC. 


SEitl) Illttiitratton#. 


NEW YORK: 

JAMES MILLER, PUBLISHER, 

64 7 Broadway. 

1876 . 


"Bos 

3 


Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
TICKNOR AND FIELDS, 
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 


New York, January 1st, 1869. 


Messrs. Fields, Osgood, & Co. : — 

I accept the terms offered, and hereby concede to you the exclusive right of 
publication, in the United States, of all my juvenile Tales of Adventure, known 
as Boys’ Novels. 


MAYNE REID. 





Ukiversity Press : Welch, Bigelow, & Co., 
Cambridgb. 

By Transfer 


AUTHOR’S NOTE. 


Captain Mayne Reid is pleased to have had the help 
of an American Author in preparing for publication this 
story of “ The Boy Slaves,” and takes the present oppor- 
tunity of acknowledging that help, which has kindly ex- 
tended beyond matters of merely external form, to points 
of narrative and composition, which are here embodied with 
the result of his own labor. 


The Rancho, December, 1864. 





i • 







CONTENTS 




OHArTRB PAQI 

I. The Land of the Slave 1 

IL Types of the Triple Einodom • • • 4 

ni. The Serpent’s Tongue . 8 

IV. ’Ware the Tide! •••••.. 18 

V. A False Guide ••••••• •16 

VL Wade or Swim ? 18 

VII. A Compulsory Parting, •••••• 21 

\in. Safe Ashore •..••••• 24 

IX. Uncomfortable Quarters 29 

XL ’Ware the Sand !••••••• 85 

Xn. A Mysterious Nightmare •••••• 40 

XIU. The Maherry 46 

XIV. A Liquid Breakfast •••••••49 

XV. The Sailor among the Shell-fish • • • 62 

XVI. Keeping under Coyer .•••••• 66 

XVII. The Trail on the Sand 60 

XVIII. The “Desert Ship” •••••••63 

XIX. Homeward Bound 66 

XX. The Dance Interrupted •••••• 69 

XXI. A Serio-Comical Reception • • • • • 73 

XXII. The Two Sheiks 76 

XXIII. Sailor Bill Bsshrewed •••••• 80 

XXIV. Starting on the Track 88 

XXV. Bill to be Abandoned 86 

XXVI. A Cautious Retreat ••••••• 89 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


xxvn. 

A Queer Quadruped 

• 

• 

• 


• 


• 


93 

xxvm. 

The Hue and Cry 









96 

XXIX. 

A Subaqueous Asylum . 

. 

• 

• 


• 


• 


99 

XXX. 

The Pursuers Nonplussed 

. 

• 


• 


ft 


. 

102 

XXXI. 

A Double Predicament. 

. 

• 

• 


• 


• 


106 

XXXII. 

Once more the mocking Laugh 



• 


• 


. 

109 

XXXIII. 

A Cunning Sheik . 

. 

• 

• 


• 


• 


112 

XXXIV. 

A Queer Encounter 

. 

. 


• 


• 


. 

114 

XXXV. 

Holding on to the Hump . 

. 

• 


• 


• 


. 

118 

XXXVI. 

Our Adventurers in Undress 

• 

• 


• 


• 


121 

XXXVII. 

The Captives in Conversation 

. 


• 


• 


. 

123 

xxxvm. 

The Douar at Dawn 

. 

• 

• 


• 


• 


127 

■ XXXIX. 

An Obstinate Dromedary 

. 

• 


• 


• 


• 

129 

XL. 

Watering the Camels . 

. 

• 

• 


• 


• 


132 

XLI. 

A Squabble between the Sheiks 


• 


• 


• 

ise 

XLII. 

The Trio Staked . 

. 

• 

• 


• 


• 


138 

XLIII. 

Golah 









142 

XLIV. 

A Day op Agony , 

• 

• 

• 


• 


• 


147 

XLV. 

Colin in Luck 








• 

152 

XLVI. 

Sailor Bill’s Experiment 

. 

• 

• 


• 


• 


165 

XLVII. 

An Unjust Keward , 

• 

• 


• 


• 


• 

169 

XLVIII. 

The Waterless Well . 

. 

• 

• 


• 


• 


164 

XLIX. 

The Well .... 









170 

L. 

A Momentous Inquiry . 

. 

• 

• 


• 


• 


176 

LI. 

A Living Grave . , 

. 

• 


• 


• 


• 

180 

LII. 

The Sheik’s Plan op Revenge 

• 

• 


• 


• 


184 

LHI. 

Captured Again 

• 

• 


• 


• 



19C 

LIV. 

An Unpaithful Wife 

. 

• 

• 


• 


• 


196 

LV. 

Two Faithful Wives 

. 

* 


• 


• 



200 

LVI. 

Fatima’s Fate 

• 

• 

• 


• 


• 


206 

LVII. 

Further Defection . 

• 

, 


• 


• 



209 

Lvm. 

A Call for Two More 

. 

• 

• 


• 


• 


214 ■ 

LIX. 

Once More by the Sea . 

. 



• 


• 



219 

LX. 

Golah Calls Again 

• 

• 

• 


• 


• 


224 


CONTENTS. V 

LXI. Sailor Bill Standing Sentry .... 228 
LXII. Golah Fulfils his Destiny .... 233 

LXIII. On the Edge of the Saara 237 

LXIV. The Rival Wreckers 240 

LXV. Another White Slave . . . . . 245 

LXVI. Sailor Bill’s Brother 251 

LXVII. A Living Stream 254 

LXVIII. The Arabs at Home 258 

LXIX. Work or Die 262 

LXX. Victory I 267 

LXXL Sold Again 270 

LXXII. Onward Once More 276 

LXXIII. Another Bargain ....... 279 

LXXIV. ^loRE Torture ....... 283 

LXXV. En Route 286 

LXXYI. Hope Deferred 289 

LXXVn. El Hajji ......... 292 

LXXVni. Bo Muzem’s Journey ...... 297 

LXXIX. Rais Mourad 300 

LXXX. Bo Muzem Back Again 804 

LXXXI. A Pursuit . . • 808 

LXXXU. Moorish Justice . . . . . . . 812 

LXXXIII. The Jew’s Leap. • . • • • .816 

LXXXIV. Conclusion 819 



I 


THE BOY SLAVES 


CHAPTEE I. 

THE LAND OF THE SLAVE. 

L and of Ethiope ! whose burning centre seems anap> 
proachable as the frozen Pole ! 

Land of the unicorn and the lion, — of the crouching 
panther and the stately elephant, — of the camel, the camel- 
opard, and the camel-bird ! land of the antelopes, — of the 
wild gemsbok, and the gentle gazelle, — land of the gigan- 
tic crocodile and huge river-horse, — land teeming with 
animal life, and last in the list of my apostrophic appella- 
tions, — last, and that which must grieve the heart to pro- 
nounce it, — land of the slave 1 

Ah ! little do men think while thus hailing thee, how near 
may be the dread doom to their own hearths and homes ! 
Little dream they, while expressing their sympathy, — alas ! 
too often, as of late shown in England, a hypocritical utter- 
ance, — little do they suspect, while glibly commiserating 
the lot of thy sable-skinned children, that hundreds — aye, 
thousands — of their own color and kindred are held within 
thy confines, subject to a lot even lowlier than these, — a 
fate far more fearful. 

Alas! it is even so. While I write, the proud Cauca- 
sian, — despite his boasted superiority of intellect, — despite 

the whiteness of his skin, — may be found by hundreds in 

1 


2 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


the unknown interior, wretchedly toiling, the slave not only 
of thy oppressors, but the slave of thy slaves ! 

Let us lift that curtain, which shrouds thy great Saara, 
and look upon some pictures that should teach the son of 
Shem, while despising his brothers Ham and Japhet, that 
he is not yet master of the world. 

Dread is that shore between Susa and Senegal, on the 
western edge of Africa, — by mariners most dreaded of any 
other in the world. The very thought of it causes the sailor 
to shiver with affright. And no wonder : on that inhospita- 
ble seaboard thousands of his fellows have found a watery 
grave ; and thousands of others a doom far more deplorable 
than death ! 

There are two great deserts : one of land, the other of 
water, — the Saara and the Atlantic, — their contiguity ex • 
tending through ten degrees of the earth’s latitude, — an 
enormous distance. Nothing separates them, save a line 
existing only in the imagination. The dreary and danger- 
ous wilderness of water kisses the wilderness of sand, — not 
less dreary or dangerous to those whose misfortune it may 
be to become castaways on this dreaded shore. 

Alas ! it has been the misfortune of many — not hun 
dreds, but thousands. Hundreds of ships, rather than hun- 
dreds of men, have suffered wreck and ruin between Susa 
and Senegal. Perhaps were we to include Roman, Phoeni- 
cian, and Carthaginian, we might say thousands of ships 
also. 

More noted, however, have been the disasters of modern 
times, during what may be termed the epoch of modern 
navigation. Within the period of the last three centuries, 
sailors of almost every maritime nation — at least all whose 
errand has led them along the eastern edge of the Atlantic 
— have had reason to regret approximation to those shores^ 
known in ship parlance as the Barbary coast; but which, 


THE LAND OF THE SLAVE. 


3 


with a slight alteration in the orthography, might be appro- 
priately styled “ Barbarian.” 

A chapter might be written in explanation of this pecu- 
liarity of expression — a chapter which would comprise 
many parts of two sciences, both but little understood — 
ethnology and meteorology. 

Of the former we may have a good deal to tell before the 
ending of this narrative. Of the latter it must suffice to 
say : that the frequent wrecks occurring on the Barbary 
coast — or, more properly, on that of the Saara south of it 
— are the result of an Atlantic current setting eastwards 
against that shore. 

The cause of this current is simple enough, though it 
requires explanation : since it seems to contradict not only 
the theory of the “ trade ” winds, but of the centrifugal in- 
clination attributed to the waters of the ocean. 

I have room only for the theory in its simplest form. 
The heating of the Saara under a tropical sun ; the absence 
of those influences — moisture and verdure — which repel 
the heat and retain its opposite ; the ascension of the heated 
air that hangs over this vast tract of desert ; the colder 
atmosphere rushing in from the Atlantic Ocean ; the conse- 
quent eastward tendency of the waters of the sea. 

These facts will account for that current which has proved 
a deadly maelstrom to hundreds — aye, thousands — of 
ships, in all ages, whose misfortune it has been to sail un- 
suspectingly along the western shores of the Ethiopian con- 
tinent. 

Even at the present day the castaways upon this desert 
shore are by no means rare, notwithstanding the warnings 
that at close intervals have been proclaimed for a period of 
three hundred years. 

While I am writing, some stranded brig, barque, or ship 
may be going to pieces between Bojador and Blanco ; her 
crew making shorewards in boats to be swamped among th^ 


4 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


foaming breakers ; or, riding three or four together upon 
some severed spar, to be tossed upon a desert strand, that 
each may wish, from the bottom of his soul, should prove 
uninhabited ! 

. I can myself record a scene like this that occurred not 
ten years ago, about midway between the two headlands 
above named — Bojador and Blanco. The locality may bo 
more particularly designated by saying : that, at half dis- 
tance between these noted capes, a narrow strip of sand 
extends for several miles out into the Atlantic, parched 
white under the rays of a tropical sun — like the tongue of 
some fiery serpent, well represented by the Saara, far 
stretching to seaward ; ever seeking to cool itself in the 
crystal waters of the sea. 


CHAPTER II. 


TYPES OP THE TRIPLE KINGDOM. 



EAR the tip of this tongue, almost within “licking” 


jL^ distance, on an evening in the month of June, 
18 — , a group of the kind last alluded to — three or four 
castaways upon a spar — might have been seen by any eye 
that chanced to be near. 

Fortunately for them, there was none sufficiently approx- 
imate to make out the character of that dark speck, slowly 
approaching the white sand-spit, like any other drift carried 
upon the landward current of the sea. 

It was just possible for a person standing upon the sum- 
mit of one of the sand “ dunes ” that, like white billows, 
rolled off into the interior of the continent — it was just 
possible for a person thus placed to have distinguished the 


TYPES OF THE TRIPLE KINGDOM. 


5 


aforesaid speck without the aid of a glass ; though with one 
it would have required a prolonged and careful observation 
to have discovered its character. 

The sand-spit was full three miles in length. The hills 
stood back from the shore another. Four miles was suffi- 
cient to screen the castaways from the observation of any- 
one who might be straying along the coast. 

For the individuals themselves it appeared very improba- 
ble that there could be any one observing them. As far as 
eye could reach — east, north, and south, there was nothing 
save white sand. To the west nothing but the blue water. 
No eye could be upon them, save that of the Creator. Of 
His creatures, tame or wild, savage or civilized, there 
seemed not one within a circuit of miles : for within that 
circuit there was nothing visible that could afford subsist- 
tence either to man or animal, bird or beast. In the white 
substratum of sand, gently shelving far un^r the sea, there 
was not a sufficiency of organic matter to have afforded 
food for fish — even for the lower organisms of mollusca. 
Undoubtedly were these castaways alone ; as much so, as if 
their locality had been the centre of the Atlantic, instead 
of its coast! 

We are privileged to approach them near enough to com- 
prehend their character, and learn the cause that has thus 
isolated them so far from the regions of animated life. 

There are four of them, astride a spar ; which also carries 
a sail, partially reefed around it, and partially permitted to 
drag loosely through the water. 

At a glance a sailor could have told that the spar on 
which they are supported is a topsail-yard, which has been 
detached from its masts in such a violent manner as to un- 
loose some of the reefs that had held the sail, thus partially 
releasing the canvas. But it needed not a sailor to tell why 
this had been done. A ship has foundered somewhere near 
the coast. There has been a gale two days before The 


6 


IHE BOY SLAVES. 


spar in question, with those supported upon it, is but a frag- 
ment of the wreck. There might have been other frag- 
ments, — others of the crew escaped, or escaping in like 
manner, — but there are no others in sight. The castaways 
slowly drifting towards the sandspit are alone. They have 
no companions on the ocean, — no spectators on its shore. 

As already stated, there are four of them. Three are 
strangely alike, — at least, in the particulars of size, shape, 
and costume. In age, too, there is no great difference. All 
three are boys : the oldest not over eighteen, the youngest 
certainly not a year his junior. 

In the physiognomy of the three there is similitude enough 
to declare them of one nation, — though dissimilarity suf- 
ficient to prove a distinct provinciality both in countenance 
and character. Their dresses of dark blue cloth, cut pea- 
jacket shape, and besprinkled with buttons of burnished 
yellow, — their cloth caps, of like color, encircled by bands 
of gold lace, — their collars, embroidered with the crown 
and anchor, declare them, all three, to be officers in the 
service of that great maritime government that has so long 
held undisputed possession of the sea, — midshipmen of the 
British navy. Rather should we say, had been. They have 
lost this proud position, along with the frigate to which 
they had been attached ; and they now only share authority 
upon a- dismasted spar, over which they are exerting some 
control, since, with their bodies bent downwards, and their 
* hands beating the water, they are propelling it in the direc- 
tion of the sand-spit. 

In the countenances of the three castaways thus intro- 
duced, I have admitted a dissimilitude something more than 
casual, — something more, even, than what might be termed 
provincial. Each presented a type that could have been 
referred to that wider distinction known as a nationality. 

The three “middies” astride of that topsail-yard were 
of course castaways from the same ship, in the service of 


TYPES OF THE TRIPLE KINGDOM. 


7 


the same government, though each was of a different 
nationality from the other two. They were the respective 
representatives of Jack, Paddy, and Sandy, — or, to speak 
more poetically, of the Rose, Shamrock, and Thistle, — and 
had the three kingdoms from which they came been searched 
throughout their whole extent, there could scarcely have 
been discovered purer representative types of each, than the 
three reefers on that spar, drifting towards the sand-spit be- 
tween Bojador and Blanco. 

Their names were Harry Blount, Terence O’Connor, and 
Colin Macpherson. 

The fourth individual — who shared with them their frail 
embarkation — differed from all three in almost every respect, 
but more especially in years. The ages of all three united 
would not have numbered his: and their wrinkles, if col- 
lected together, would scarce have made so many as could 
have been counted in the crowsfeet indelibly imprinted in 
the corners of his eyes. 

It would have required a very learned ethnologist to have 
told to which of his three companions he was compatriot f 
though there could be no doubt about his being either Eng- 
lish, Irish, or Scotch. 

Strange to say, his tongue did not aid in the identification 
of his nationality. It was not often heard ; but even when 
it was, its utterance would have defied the most accom- 
plished linguistic ear ; and neither from that, nor other cir 
cumstance known to them, could any one of his three com > 
panions lay claim to him as a countryman. When he spoke, 
— a rare occurrence already hinted, — it was with a liberal 
misplacement of “ h’s ” that should have proclaimed him an 
Englishman of purest Cockney type. At the same time his 
language was freely interspersed with Irish “ ochs ” and 
shures ” ; while the “ wees ” and ‘‘ bonnys,” oft recurring 
in his speech, should have proved him a sworn Scotchman. 
From his countenance you might have drawn your own^in- 


8 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


ference, and believed him any of the three ; but not from 
his tongue. Neither in his accent, nor the words that fell 
from him, could you have told which of the three kingdoms 
had the honor of giving him birth. 

Whichever it was, it had supplied to the Service a true 
British tar: for although you might mistake the man in 
other respects, his appearance forbade all equivocation upon 
this point. 

His costume was that of a common sailor, and, as a mat- 
ter of course, his name was ‘‘ Bill.” But as he had only 
been one among many ‘‘Bills” rated on the man-o’-war’s 
books, — now gone to the bottom of the sea, — he carried a 
distinctive appellation, no doubt earned by his greater age. 
Aboard the frigate he had been known as “ Old Bill ” ; and 
the soubriquet still attached to him upon the spar. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE serpent’s TONGUE. 

T he presence of a ship’s topsail-yard thus bestridden 
plainly proclaimed that a ship had been wrecked, al- 
though no other evidence of the wreck was within sight. 
Not a speck was visible upon the sea to the utmost verge 
of the horizon: and if a ship had foundered within that 
field of view, her boats and every vestige of the wreck must 
either have gone to the bottom, or in some other direction 
than that taken by the topsail-yard, which supported the 
three midshipmen and the sailor Bill. 

A ship had gone to the bottom — a British man-of-war-— 
a corvette on her way to her cruising ground on the Guinea 
coast. Beguiled by the dangerous current that sf3ts towards 


THE SERPENT’S TONGUE. 


9 


the seaboard of the Saara, in a dark stormy night she had 
Rtrr ck upon a sand-bank, got bilged, and sunk almost instantly 
among the breakers. Boats had been got out, and men had 
been seen crowding hurriedly into them ; others had taken 
to such rafts or spars as could be detached from the sinking 
vessel ; but whether any of these, or the overladen boats, 
had succeeded in reaching the shore, was a question which 
none of the four astride the topsail-yard were able to answer. 

They only knew that the corvette had gone to the bottom, 

— they saw her go down, shortly after drifting away from 
her side, but saw nothing more until morning, when they 
perceived themselves alone upon the ocean. They had been 
drifting throughout the remainder of that long, dark night, 

— often entirely under water, when the sea swelled over 
them, — and one and all of them many times on the point 
of being washed from their frail embarkation. 

By daybreak the storm had ceased, and was succeeded by 
a clear, calm day ; but it was not until a late hour that the 
swell had subsided sufficiently to enable them to take any 
measures for propelling the strange craft that carried them. 
Then using their hands as oars or paddles, they commenced 
making some way through the water. 

There was nothing in sight — neither land nor any other 
object — save the sea, the sky, and the sun. It was the 
east which guided them as to direction. But for it there 
could have been no object in making way through the water ; 
but with the sun now sinking in the west, they could tell 
the east, and they knew that in that point alone land might 
be expected. 

After the sun had gone down the stars became their com- 
pass, and throughout all the second night of their shipwreck 
they had continued to paddle the spar in an easterly direction. 

Day again dawned upon them, but without gratifying 
their eyes by the sight of land, or any other object to inspire 
them with a hope. 

1 * 


10 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Famished with hunger, tortured with thirst, and wearied 
with their continued exertions, they were about to surrender 
to despair ; when, as the sun once more mounted up to the 
sky, and his bright beams pierced the crystal water upon 
which they were floating, they saw beneath them the sheen 
of white sand. It was the bottom of the sea, and at no 
great depth, — not more than a few fathoms below their 
feet. 

Such shallow water could not be far from the shore. Re- 
assured and encouraged by the thought, they once more 
renewed their exertions, and continued to paddle the spar, 
taking only short intervals of rest throughout the whole of 
the morning. 

Long before noon they were compelled to desist. They 
were close to the tropic of Cancer, almost under its line. It 
was the season of midsummer, and of course at meridian 
hour the sun was right over their heads. Even their bodies 
cast no shadow, except upon the white sand directly under- 
neath them, at the bottom of the sea. 

The sun could no longer guide them ; and as they had no 
other index, they were compelled to remain stationary, or 
drift in whatever direction the breeze or the currents might 
carry them. 

There was not much movement any way, and for several 
hours before and after noon they lay almost becalmed upon 
the ocean. This period was passed in silence and inaction. 
There was nothing for them to talk about but their forlorn 
situation, and this topic had been exhausted. There was 
nothing for them to do. Their only occupation was to watch 
the sun, until, by its sinking lower in the sky, they might 
discover its westing. 

Could they at that moment have elevated their eyes only 
three feet higher, they would not have needed to wait for 
the declination of the orb of day. They would have seen 
land, such land as it was j but, sunk as their shoulders were 


THE SERPENT’S TONGUE 


11 


almost to the level of the water, even the summits of the 
Band dunes were not visible to their eyes. 

When the sun began to go down towards the horizon, 
they once more plied their palms against the liquid wave, 
and sculled the spar eastward. The sun’s lower limb was 
just touching the western horizon, when his red rays, glan- 
cing over their shoulders, showed them some white spots 
that appeared to rise out of the water. 

Were they clouds ? No ! Their rounded tops, cutting 
the sky with a clear line, forbade this belief. They should 
be hills, either of snow or of sand. It was not the region 
for snow : they could only be sand-hills. 

The cry of “ land ” pealed simultaneously from the lips 
of all, — that cheerful cry that has so oft given gladness to 
the despairing castaway, — and redoubling their exertions, 
the spar was propelled through the water more rapidly than 
ever. 

Eeinvigorated by the prospect of once more setting foot 
upon land, they forgot for the moment thirst, hunger, and 
weariness, and only occupied themselves in sculling their 
craft towards the shore. 

Under the belief that they had still several miles to 
make before the beach could be attained, they were one and 
all working with eyes turned downward. At that mo- 
ment old Bill, chancing to look up, gave utterance to a 
shout of joy, which was instantly echoed by his youthful 
companions : all had at the same time perceived the long 
sand-spit projecting far out into the water, and which looked 
like the hand of some friend held out to bid them welcome. 

They had scarce made this discovery before another of 
(ike pleasant nature came under their attention. That was, 
that they were touching bottom ! Their legs, bestriding the 
spar, hung down on each side of it ; and to the joy of all 
they now felt their feet scraping along the sand. 

As if actuated by one impulse, all four dismounted from 


12 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


the irksome seat they had been so long compelled to keep ; 
and, bidding adieu to the spar, they plunged on through the 
shoal water, without stop or stay, until they stood high and 
dry upon the extreme point of the peninsula. 

By this time the sun had gone down ; and the four drip- 
ping forms, dimly outlined in the purple twilight, appeared 
like four strange creatures who had just emerged from out 
the depths of the ocean. 

“ Where next ? ” 

This was the mental interrogatory of all four : though by 
none of them shaped into words. 

‘‘Nowhere to-night,” was the answer suggested by the 
inclination of each. 

Impelled by hunger, stimulated by thirst, one would have 
expected them to proceed onward in search of food and 
water to alleviate this double suffering. But there was an 
inclination stronger than either, — too strong to be resisted, 
— sleep : since for fifty hours they had been without any ; 
since to have fallen asleep on the spar would have been 
to subject themselves to the danger, almost the certainty, of 
dropping off, and getting drowned ; and, notwithstanding 
their need of sleep, increased by fatigue, and the necessity 
of keeping constantly on the alert, — up to that moment not 
one of them had obtained any. The thrill of pleasure that 
passed through their frames as they felt their feet upon 
terra jirma for a moment aroused them. But the excite- 
ment could not be sustained. The drowsy god would no 
longer be deprived of his rights ; and one after another — • 
though without much interval between — sank down upcm 
the soft sand, and yielded to his balmy embrace. 


WARI'] THE TIDE ' 



. Ii7^>:’ ri'*; :-,-^7 

Jvji '.^o'v ’. yr.y 

- V ' : - it p/^ 

'^■f..} 'it' 

-■ ■■- ■: ' - J^: .rT7'^ 


’WARE THE TIDE I 


13 


CHAPTER IV. 

’ware the tide. 

T hrough that freak, or law, of nature by which penin- 
sulas are shaped, the point of the sand-spit was elevated 
several feet above the level of the sea; while its neck, 
nearer the land, scarce rose above the surface of the water. 

It was this highest point — where the sand was thrown 
up in a “ wreath,” like snow in a storm — that the casta- 
ways had chosen for their couch. But little pains had been 
taken in selecting the spot. It was the most conspicuous, 
as well as the driest ; and, on stepping out of the water, 
they had tottered towards it, and half mechanically chosen 
it for their place of repose. 

Simple as was the couch, they were not allowed to occupy 
it for long. They had been scarce two hours asleep, when 
one and all of them were awakened by a sensation that 
chilled, and, at the same time, terrified them. Their terror 
arose from a sense of suffocation : as if salt water was being 
poured down their throats, which was causing it. In short, 
they experienced the sensation of drowning; and fancied 
they were struggling amid the waves, from which they had 
so lately escaped. 

All four sprang to their feet, — if not simultaneously, at 
least in quick succession, — and all appeared equally the 
victims of astonishment, closely approximating to terror. 
Instead of the couch of soft, dry sand, on which they had 
stretched their tired frames, they now stood up to their 
ankles in water, — which was soughing and surging around 
them. It was this change in their situation that caused 
their astonishment ; though the terror quick followiag sprang 
from quite another cause. 

The former was short-lived : for it met with a ready ex- 


14 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


planation. In tlie confusion of their ideas, added to their 
strong desire for sleep, they had forgotten the tide. The 
sand, dust-dry under the heat of a burning sun, had deceived 
them. They had lain down upon it, without a thought of 
its ever being submerged under the sea ; but now to their 
surprise they perceived their mistake. Not only was their 
couch completely under water : but, had they slept a few 
minutes longer, they would themselves have been quite 
covered. Of course the waves had awakened them ; and no 
doubt would have done so half an hour earlier, but for the pro- 
found slumber into which their long watching and weariness 
had thrown them. The contact of the cold water was not 
likely to have much effect : since they had been already ex- 
posed to it for more than forty hours. Indeed, it was not 
that which had aroused them ; but the briny fluid getting 
into their mouths, and causing them that feeling of suffoca- 
tion that very much resembled drowning. 

More than one of the party had sprung to an erect atti- 
tude, under the belief that such was in reality the case ; and 
it is not quite correct to say that their first feeling was one of 
mere astonishment. It was strongly commingled with terror. 

On perceiving how matters stood, their fears subsided al- 
most as rapidly as they had arisen. It was only the inflow 
of the tide ; and to escape from it would be easy enough. 
They would have nothing more to do, than keep along the 
narrow strip of sand, which they had observed before landing. 
This would conduct them to the true shore. They knew 
this to be at some distance; but, once there, they could 
choose a more elevated couch, on which they could recline 
undisturbed till the morning. 

Such was their belief, conceived the instant after they had 
got upon their legs. It was soon followed by another, — 
another consternation, — which, if not so sudden as the first, 
was, perhaps, ten times more intense. , 

On turning their faces towards what they believed to be 


’WARE THE Tn)EI 


15 


the land, there Tpas no land in sight, — neither sand-hills, 
nor shore, nor even the narrow tongue upon whose tip they 
had been trusting themselves ! There was nothing visible 
but water ; and even this was scarce discernible at the dis- 
tance of six paces from where they stood. They could only 
tell that water was around them, by hearing it hoarsely swish- 
ing on every side, and seeing through the dim obscurity 
the strings of white froth that floated on its broken surface. 

It was not altogether the darkness of the night that ob- 
scured their view ; though this was of itself profound. It 
was a thick mist, or fog, that had arisen over the surface of 
the ocean, and which enveloped their bodies ; so that, though 
standing almost close together, each appeared to the others 
like some huge spectral form at a distance ! 

To remain where they were, was to be swallowed up by 
the sea. There could be no uncertainty about that ; and 
therefore no one thought of staying a moment longer on the 
point of the sand-spit, now utterly submerged. 

But in what direction were they to go ? That was the 
question that required to be solved before starting ; and in 
the solution of which, perhaps, depended the safety of their 
lives. 

We need scarce say perhaps. Rather might we say, for 
certain. By taking a wrong direction they would be walk- 
ing into the sea, — where they would soon get beyond their 
iepth, and be in danger of drowning. This was all the 
jiore likely, that the wind had been increasing ever since 
Jiey had laid down to rest, and was now blowing with con- 
uiderable violence. Partly from this, and partly by the 
tidal influence, big waves had commenced rolling around 
them ; so that, even in the shoal water where they stood, 
each successive swell was rising higher and higher against 
their bodies. 

There was no time to be lost. They must find the true 
direction for the shore, and follow it, — quickly too ; or per' 
ish amid the breakers! 


16 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER V. 

A FALSE GUIDE. 

W HICH way to the shore ? 

That was the question that arose to the lips of all. 
You may fancy it could have been easily answered. The 
direction of the wind and waves was landward. It was the 
sea-breeze, which at night, as every navigator is aware, 
blows habitually towards the land, — at least, in the region 
of the tropics, and more especially towards the hot Saara. 

The tide itself might have told them the direction to take. 
It was the in-coming tide, and therefore swelling towards the 
beach. 

You may fancy that they had nothing to do but follow the 
waves, keeping the breeze upon their back. 

So they fancied, at first starting for the shore ; but they 
were not long in discovering that this guide, apparently so 
trustworthy was not to be relied upon ; and it was only then 
they became apprised of the real danger of their situation. 
Both wind and waves were certainly proceeding landward, 
and in a direct line ; but it was just this direct line the cast- 
aways dared not — in fact could not — follow; for they had 
not gone a hundred fathoms from the point of the submerged 
peninsula when they found the water rapidly deepening 
before them ; and a few fathoms further on they stood up to 
their armpits ! 

It was evident that, in the direction in which they were 
proceeding, it continued to grow deeper ; and they turned to 
try another. 

After floundering about for a while, they found shoal 
water again, — reaching up only to their knees; but wherever 
they attempted to follow the course of the waves, they per- 
ceived that the shoal trended gradually downward. 


A FALSE GUIDE. 


17 


Tills at first caused them surprise, as well as alarm. The 
former affected them only for an instant. The explanation 
was sought for, and suggested to the satisfaction of all. The 
sand-spit did not project perpendicularly from the line of the 
coast, but in a diagonal direction. It was in fact, a sort of 
natural breakwater — forming one side of a large cone, or 
embayment, lying between it and the true beach. This 
feature had been observed, on their first setting foot upon it ; 
though at the time they were so much engrossed with the 
joyous thought of having escaped from the sea, that it had 
made no impression upon their memory. 

They now remembered the circumstance ; though not to 
their satisfaction ; ^ for they saw at once that the guide in 
which they had been trusting could no longer avail them. 

The waves were rolling on over that bay — whose depth 
they had tried, only to find it unfordable. 

This was a new dilemma. To escape from it there ap- 
peared but one way. They must keep their course along 
the combing of the peninsula — if they could. But their 
ability to do so had now become a question — each instant 
growing more difficult to answer. 

They were no longer certain that they were on the spit ; 
but, whether or not, they could find no shallower water 
by trying oh either side. Each way they went it seemed to 
deepen ; and even if they stood still but for a few moments, 
as they were compelled to do while hesitating as to their 
course — the water rose perceptibly upon their limbs. 

They were now well aware that they had two enemies to 
contend with — time and direction. The loss of either one 
or the other might end in their destruction. A wrong di- 
rection would lead them into deep .water; a waste of 
time would bring deep water around them. The old adage 
about time and tide — which none of them could help hav- 
ing heard — might have been ringing in their ears at that 
moment. It was appropriate to the occasion. 

B 


18 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


They thought of it ; and the thought filled them with ap 
prehension. From the observations they had made before 
sunset, they knew that the shore could not be near — not 
nearer than three miles — perhaps four. 

Even with free footing, the true direction, and a c/ear 
view of the path, it might have been a question about time. 
They all knew enough of the sea to be aware how rapidly 
the tide sets in — especially on some foreign shores — and 
there was nothing to assure them that the seaboard of the 
Saara was not beset by the most treacherous of tides. On 
the contrary, it was just this — a tidal current — that had 
forced their vessel among the breakers, causing them to be- 
come what they now were, — castaways ! 

They had reason to dread the tides of the Saara’s shore ; 
and dread them they did, — their fears at each moment be- 
coming stronger as they felt the dark waters rising higher 
and higher around them. 


CHAPTER VI. 

WADE OR SWIM ? - 

F or a time they floundered on, — the old sailor in the 
lead, the three boys strung out in a line after him. 
Sometimes they departed from this formation, — one or 
another trying towards the flank for shallower water. 

Already it clasped them by the thighs ; and just in pro- 
portion as it rose upon their bodies, did their spirits become 
depressed. They knew that they were following the crest of 
the sand-spit. They knew it by the deepening of the sea on 
each side of them ; but they had by this time discovered an- 
othex index to their direction, Old Bill had kept his “ weath- 


WADE OR SWIM? 


19 


er-eye ” upon the waves ; until he had discovered the angle 
at which they broke over the “ bar,” and could follow the 
“ combing ” of the spit, as he called it, without much danger 
of departure from the true path. 

It was not the direction that troubled their thoughts any 
longer ; but the time and the tide. 

Up to their waists in water, their progress could not be 
otherwise than slow. The time would not have signified 

O 

could they have been sure of the tide, — that is, sure of its 
not rising higher. 

Alas ! they could not be in doubt about this. On the con- 
trary, they were too well assured that it was rising higher ; 
and with a rapidity that threatened soon to submerge them 
under its merciless swells. These came slowly sweeping 
along, in the diagonal direction, — one succeeding the other, 
and each new one striking higher up upon the bodies of the 
now exhausted waders. 

On they floundered despite their exhaustion ; on along 
the subaqueous ridge, which at every step appeared to sink 
deeper into the water, — as if the nearer to the land the 
peninsula became all the more depressed. This, however, 
was but a fancy. They had already passed the neck of the 
sand-spit where it was lowest. It was not that, but the fast 
flowing tide that was deepening the water around them. 

Deeper and deeper, — deeper and deeper, till the salt sea 
clasped them around the armpits, and the tidal waves began 
to break over their heads ! 

Th^re seemed but one way open to their salvation, — but 
one course by which they could escape from the engulfment 
that threatened. This was to forego any further attempt 
at wading, to fling themselves boldly upon the waves, and 
swim ashore ! 

Now that they were submerged to their necks, you may 
wonder at their not at once adopting this plan. It is true 
they were ignorant of the distance they would have to swim 


20 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


before reaching the shore* Still they knew it could not bo 
more than a couple of miles ; for they had ali'eady traversed 
quite that distance on the diagonal spit. But two miles 
need scarce have made them despair, with both wind and 
tide in their favor. 

Why, then, did they hesitate to trust themselves to the 
quick, bold stroke of the swimmer, instead of the slow, tim- 
id, tortoise-like tread of the wader ? 

There are two answers to this question ; for there were 
two reasons for them not having recourse to the former al- 
ternative. The first was selfish; or rather, should we call 
it self-preservative. There was a doubt in the minds of all, 
as to their ability to reach the shore by swimming. It was 
a broad bay that had been seen before sundown ; and once 
launched upon its bosom, it was a question whether any of 
them would have strength to cross it. Once launched upon 
its bosom, there would be no gettmg back to the shoal water 
through which they were wading ; the tidal current would 
prevent return. 

This consideration was backed by another, — a lingering 
belief or hope that the tide might already have reached its 
highest, and would soon be on the “turn.” This hope, 
though faint, exerted an influence on the waders, — as yet 
Buificient to restrain them from becoming swimmers. But 
even after this could no longer have prevailed, — even when 
the waves began to surge over, threatening at each fresh 
“ sea ” to scatter the shivering castaways and swallow them 
one by one, — there was another thought that kept them to- 
gether. 

It was a thought neither of self nor self-preservation; 
but a generous instinct, that even in that perilous crisis was 
stirring within their hearts. 

Instinct! No. It was a thought, — an impulse if you 
will ;. but something higher than an instinct. 

Shall I declare it ? Undoubtedly, I shall. Noble emo 


A COMPULSORY PARTING. 


21 


tions should not be concealed ; and the one which at that 
moment throbbed within the bosoms of the castaways, was 
truly noble. 

There were but three of them who felt it. The fourth 
could not : he could not swim ! 

Surely the reader needs no further explanation ? 


CHAPTER VII. 

A COMPULSORY PARTING. 

O NE of the four castaways could not swim. Which one ? 

You will expect to hear that it was one of the three 
midshipmen ; and will be conjecturing whether it was Harry 
Blount, Terence O’Connor, or Colin Macpherson. 

My English boy-readers would scarce believe me, were I 
to say that it was Harry who was wanting in this useful ao- 
complishment. Equally incredulous would be my Irish and 
Scotch constituency^ were I to deny the possession of it to 
the representatives of their respective countries, — Terence 
and Colin. 

Far be it from me to offend the natural amour propre of 
my young readers ; and in the present case I have no fact 
to record that would imply any national superiority or dis- 
advantage. The castaway who could not swim was that pe- 
culiar hybrid, ov tribrid, already described; who, for any 
characteristic he carried about him, might have been born 
either upon the banks of the Clyde, the Thames, or the 
Shannon ! 

It was “ Old Bill ” who was deficient in natatory prowess : 
Old Bill the sailor. 

It may 1)6 wondered that one who has spent nearly the 


22 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


whole of his life on the sea should be wanting in an accom 
plishment, apparently and really, so essential to such a call 
ing. Cases of the kind, however, are by no means uncom- 
mon ; and in a ship’s crew there will often be found a laige 
number of men, — sometimes the very best sailors, — who 
cannot swim a stroke. 

Those who have neglected to cultivate this useful art, 
when boys, rarely acquire it after they grow up to be men ; 
or, if they do, it is only in an indifferent manner. On the 
sea, though it may appear a paradox, there are far fewer 
opportunities for practising the art of swimming than upon 
its shores. Aboard a ship, on her course, the chances of 
“ bathing ” are but few and far between ; and, while in port, 
the sailor has usually something else to do than spend his 
idle hours in disporting himself upon the waves. The sail- 
or, when ashore, seeks for some sport more attractive. 

As Old Bill had been at sea ever since he was able to 
stand upon the deck of a ship, he had neglected this useful 
art ; and though in every other respect an accomplished 
sailor — rated A.B., No. 1 — he could not swim six lengths 
of his own body. 

It was a noble instinct which prompted his three youthful 
companions to remain by him in that critical moment, when, 
by flinging themselves upon the waves, they might have 
gained the shore without difllculty. 

Although the bay might be nearly two miles in width 
there could not be more than half that distance beyond their 
depth, — judging by the shoal appearance which the coast 
had exhibited as they were approaching it before sundown. 

All three felt certain of being able to save themselves ; 
but what would become of their companion, the sailor? 

“We cannot leave you, Bill!’’ cried Harry: “we will 
not ! ” 

“ No, that we can’t : we won’t 1 ” said Terence. 

“We can’t, and won’t,” asseverated Colin, with like em- 
phasis. 


A COMPULSOHY PARTING. 


23 


These generous declarations were in answer to an equally 
generous proposal : in which the sailor had urged them to 
make for the shore, and leave him to his fate. 

Ye must, my lads ! he cried out, repeating his proposi- 
tion. ‘‘ Don’t mind about me ; look to yersels ! Och ! shure 
I ’m only a weather-washed, worn-out old salt, ’ardly worth 
savin’. Go now — off wi’ ye at onest ! The water ’ll be 
over ye, if ye stand ’eer tin minutes longer.” 

The three youths scrutinized each other’s faces, as fer as 
the darkness would allow them. Each tried to read in the 
countenances of the other two some sign that might deter- 
mine him. The water was already washing around their 
shoulders ; it was with difficulty they could keep their feet. 

“ Let loose, lads ! ” cried Old Bill ; “ let loose, I say ! and 
swim richt for. the shore. Don’t think o’ me; it bean’t cer- 
tain I shan’t weather it yet. I ’m the whole av my head 
taller than the tallest av ye. The tide mayn’t full any 
higher ; an’ if it don’t I ’ll get safe out after all. Let loose, 
lads — let loose I tell ye ! ” 

This command of the old sailor for his young comrades to 
forsake him was backed by a far more irresistible influence, 
— one against which even their noble instincts could no 
longer contend. 

At that moment, a wave, of greater elevation than any 
that had preceded it, came rolling along ; and the three mid- 
shipmen, lifted upon its swell, were borne nearly half a 
cable’s length from the ^pot where they had been standing. ' 

In vain did they endeavor to recover their feet. They 
had been carried into deep water, where the tallest of them 
could not touch bottom. 

For some seconds they struggled on the top of the swell, 
their faces turned towards the spot from which they had 
been swept. They were close together. All three seemed 
desirous of making back to that dark, solitary speck, pro 


24 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


trading above the surface, and which they knew to be the 
head of Old Bill. Still did they hesitate to forsake him. 

Once more his voice sounded in their ears. 

“ Och, boys ! ” cried he, “ don’t thry to come back. It 
no use whatever. Lave me to my fate, an’ save yersels I 
The tide ’s ’ard against ye. Turn, an’ follow it, as I tell ye. 
It ’ll carry ye safe to the shore ; an’ if I ’m washed afther 
ye, bury me on the bache. Farewell, brave boys, — fare 
well!” 

To the individuals thus apostrophized, it was a sorrowful 
adieu; and, could they have done anything to save the 
sailor, there was not one of the three who would not have 
risked his life over and over again. But all were impressed 
with the hopelessness of rendering any succor ; and under 
the still further discouragement caused by another huge 
wave, that came swelling up under their chins, they turned 
simultaneously in the water ; and, taking the tidal current 
for their guide, swam with all their ’Strength towards the 
shore. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

S^FE ASHORE. 

T he swim proved shorter than any of them had antici- 
pated. They had scarce made half a mile across the 
bay, when Terence, who was the worst swimmer of the 
three, and who had been allowing his legs to droop, struck 
his toes against something more substantial than salt water. 

“ r faith ! ” gasped he, with exhausted breath, “ I think 
I ’ve touched bottouj. Blessed be the Virgin, I have ! ” he 
continued, at the same time standing erect, with head and 
shoulders above the surface of the water. 


SAFE ASHORE. 


25 


•'All right!” cried Harry, imitating the upright attitude 
of the young Hibernian. “ Bottom it must be, and bottom 
it is. Thank God for it 1 ” 

Colin, with a similar grateful ejaculation, suspended his 
stroke, and stood upon his feet. 

All three instinctively faced seaward — as they did so, 
exclaiming — 

“ Poor Old Bill!” 

“ In troth, we might have brought him along with us ! ” 
suggested Terence, as soon as he had recovered his wind ; 
“might we not?” 

“ If we had but known it was so short a swim,” said Har- 
ry, “ it is possible.” 

“ How about our trying to swim back ? Do you think we 
could do it ? ” 

“ Impossible ! ” asserted Colin. 

“ What, Colin, you are the best swimmer of us all ! Do 
you say so ? ” asked the others, eager to make an effort for 
saving the old salt, who had been the favorite of every offi- 
cer aboard the ship. 

“ I say impossible,” replied the cautious Colin ; “ I would 
risk as much as any of you, but there is not a reasonable 
chance of saving him, and what ’s the use of trying impossi- 
bilities ? We ’d better make sure that we ^re safe ourselves. ^ 
There may be more deep water between us and the shore. 
Let us keep on till we Ve set our feet on something more 
like terra firma.” 

The advice of the young Scotchman was too prudent to ^ 
be rejected; and all three, once more turning their faces^ 
shoreward, continued to advance in that direction. 

They only knew that they were facing shoreward by the 
inflow of the tide, but certain that this would prove a toler- 
ably safe guide, they kept boldly on, without fear of stray- 
ing from the track. 

For a while they waded ; but, as their progress was both 


26 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


slower and more toilsome, they once more betook themselves 
to swimming. Whenever they felt fatigued by either mode 
of progression, they changed to the other ; and partly by 
wading and partly by swimming, they passed through anoth- 
er mile of the distance that separated them from the shore. 
The water then became so shallow, that swimming was no 
longer possible; and they waded on, with eyes earnestly 
piercing the darkness, each moment expecting to see some- 
thing of the land. 

They were soon to be gratified by having this expectation 
realized. The curving lines that began to glimmer dimly 
through the obscurity, were the outlines of rounded objects 
that could not be ocean waves. They were too white for 
these. They could only be the sandhills, which they had 
seen before the going down of the sun. As they were now 
but knee-deep in the water, and the night was still misty 
and dark, these objects could be at no great distance, and 
deep water need no longer be dreaded. 

The three castaways considered themselves as having 
reached the shore. 

Harry and Terence were about to continue on to the 
beach, when Colin called to them to come to a stop. 

“ Why ? ” inquired Harry. 

“ What for ? ” asked Terence. 

“ Before touching dry land,” suggested the thoughtful Co- 
lin, “ suppose we decide what has been the fate of poor Old 
Bill.” 

“ How can we tell that ? ” interrogated the other two. 

‘‘ Stand still awhile ; we shall soon see whether his head 
is yet above water.” 

Harry and Terence consented to the proposal of their 
comrade, but without exactly comprehending its import. 

“ What do you mean, Coley ? ” asked the impatient Hi- 
bernian. 

“To see if the tide’s ‘still rising,” was the explanation 
given by the Scotch youth. 


SAFE ASHORE. 


27 


‘‘ And what if it be ? ” demanded Terence. 

“ Only, that if it be, we will never more see the old sailor 
in the land of the living. We may look for his lifeless corpse 
after it has been washed ashore.” 

“ Ah ! I comprehend you,” said Terence. 

“ You ’re right,” added Harry. “ If the tide be still rising, 
Old Bill is under it by this time. I dare say his body will 
drift ashore before morning.” 

They stood still, — all three of them. They watched the 
water, as it rippled up against their limbs, taking note of its 
ebbing and flowing. They watched with eyes full of anx- 
ious solicitude. They continued this curious vigil for full 
twenty minutes. They would have patiently prolonged it 
still further had it been necessary. But it was not. ‘Ho 
further observation was required to convince them that the 
tidal current was still carried towards the shore ; and that 
the water was yet deepening around them. 

The data thus obtained were sufficient to guide them to 
the solution of the sad problem. During that interval, while 
they were swimming and wading across the bay, the tide 
must have been continually on the increase. It must have 
risen at least a yard. A foot would be sufl[icient to have 
submerged the sailor : since he could not swim. There was 
but one conclusion to which they could come. Their com- 
panion must have been drowned. 

With heavy hearts they turned their faces toward the 
shore, — thinking more of the sad fate of the sailor than 
their own future. 

Scarce had they proceeded a dozen steps, when a shout, 
heard from behind, caused them to come to a sudden stop. 

“ Avast there ! ” cried a voice that seemed to rise from 
out the depths of the sea. 

“ It ’s Bill ! ” exclaimed all three in the same breath. ' 

“ ’Old on my ’arties, if that ’s yer^lves that I see J ’ 
continued the voice. “ Arrah, ’old on there. I ’m so tired 


28 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


wadin’, I want a short spell to rest myself. Wait now, and 
I T1 come to yez, as soon as I can take a reef out of my 
tops’ls.” 

The joy caused by this greeting, great as it was, was 
scarce equal to the surprise it inspired. They who heard it 
were for some seconds incredulous. The sound of the sail- 
or’s voice, well known as it was, with something like the 
figure of a human being dimly seen through the uncertain 
mist that shadowed the surface of the water was proof 
that he still lived ; while, but the moment before, there ap* 
peared substantial proof that he must have gone to the bot- 
tom. Their incredulity even continued, till more positive 
evidence to the contrary came before them, in the shape of 
the old man-o’-war’s-man himself; who, rapidly splashing 
through the more shallow water, in a few seconds stood 
face to face with the three brave boys whom he had so 
lately urged to abandon him. 

“ Bill, is it you ? ” cried all three in a breath. 

“ Auch ! and who else would yez expect it to be ? Did 
yez take me for ’ould Neptune risin’ hout of the say ? Or 
did yez think I was a mare-maid ? Gee me a grip o’ yer 
wee fists, ye bonny boys. Ole Bill warn’t born to be 
drowned ! ” 

“ But how did ye come, Bill ? The tide ’s been rising 
ever since we left you.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Terence, “ I see how it is, the bay isn’t so 
deep after all ; you’ve waded all the way.” 

“ Avast there, master Terry ! not half the way, though 
I’ve waded part of it. There’s wather between here and 
where you left me, deep enough to dhrown Phil Macool. I 
did n’t crass the bay by wading at all — at all.” 

“ How then ? ” 

«I was ferried on a nate little craft — as yez all knows 
of — the same that carried us safe to the sand-spit.” 

“ The spar * ” 


iraCOMFORTABLE QUARTERS. 


29 


•* ITcxactly as ye say. Just as I was about to gee my 
last gasp, something struck me on the back o’ the head, mak- 
ing me duck under the wather. What was that but the 
tops’l yard. Hech ! I was na long in mountin’ on to it. 
I’ve left it out there afther I feeled ray toes trailin’ along 
the bottom. Now, my bonny babies, that’s how Old Bill ’s 
been able to rejoin ye. Flippers all round once more ; and 
then let ’s see what sort o’ a shore we ’ve got to make poit 
upon.” 

An enthusiastic shake of the hands passed between the 
old sailor and his youthful companions; after which the faces 
of all were turned towards the shore, still only dimly distin- 
guishable, and uninviting as seen, but more welcome to the 
sight than the wilderness of water stretching as if to infinity 
behind them. 


CHAPTER IX. 

UNCOMFORTABLE QUARTERS. 

T he waders had still some distance to go before reach- 
ing dry land ; but, after splashing for about twenty 
minutes longer, they at length stood upon the shore. As 
the tide was still flowing in they continued up the beach ; 
so as to place themselves beyond the reach of the water, in 
the event of its rising still higher. 

They had to cross a wide stretch of wet sand before they 
could find a spot sufficiently elevated to secure them agairist 
the further influx of the tide. Having, at length, discov- 
ered such a spot, they stopped to deliberate on what was 
best to be done. 

They would fain have had a fire to dry their dripping 


30 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


garments : for the night had grown chilly under the in- 
fluence of the fog. 

Tlie old sailor had his flint, steel, and tinder — the latter 
still safe in its water-tight tin box ; but there was no fuel 
to be found near. The spar, even could they have broken 
it up, was still floating, or stranded, in the shoal water — 
more than a mile to seaward. 

In the absence of a fire they adopted the only other 
mode they could think of to get a little of the water out of 
their clothes. They stripped themselves to the skin, wrung 
out each article separately ; and then, giving each a good 
shake, put them on again — leaving it to the natural warmth 
of their bodies to complete the process of drying. 

By the time they had finished this operation, the mist 
had become sensibly thinner ; and the moon, suddenly 
emerging from under a cloud, enabled them to obtain a bet- 
ter view of the shore upon which they had set foot. 

Landward, as far as they could see, there appeared to be 
nothing but white sand — shining like silver under the light 
of the moon. Up and down the coast the same landscape 
could be dimly distinguished. 

It was not a level surface that was thus covered with 
sand, but a conglomeration of hillocks and ridges, blending 
into each other and forming a labyrinth, that seemed to 
stretch interminably on all sides — except towards the sea 
itself. , 

It occurred to them to climb to the highest of the hil- 
locks. From its summit they would have' a better view of 
the country beyond ; and perhaps discover a place suitable 
for an encampment — perhaps some timber might then come 
into view — from which they would be able to obtain a few 
sticks. 

On attempting to scale the dune,” they found that their 
wading was not yet at an end. Though no longer in the 
water, they sank to their knees at every step, in soft yield- 
ing sand. 


UNCOMFORTABLE QUARTERS. 


31 


The ascent of the hillock, though scarce a hundred feet 
high, proved exceedingly toilsome — much more so than, 
wading knee-deep in water — but they floundered on, and 
at length reached the summit. 

To the right, to the left, in front of them, far as the eye 
could reach, nothing but hills and ridges of sand — that ap- 
peared under the moonlight of a whiteness approaching to 
that of snow. In fact, it would not have been difficult to 
fancy that the country was covered with a heavy coat of 
snow — as often seen in Sweden, or the Northern parts of 
Scotland — drifted into “ wreaths,” and spurred hillocks of 
every imaginable form. 

It was pretty, but soon became painful from its monotony; 
and the eyes of that shipwrecked quartette were even glad 
to turn once more to the scarce less monotonous blue of the 
ocean. 

Inland, they could perceive other sand-hills — higher 
than that to which they had climbed — and long crested 
“ combings,” with deep valleys between ; but not one object 
to gladden their sight — nothing that offered promise of 
either food, drink, or shelter. 

Had it not been for their fatigue they might have gone 
farther. Since the moon had consented to show herself, 
there was light enough to travel by ; and they might have 
proceeded on — either through the sand-dunes or along the 
shore. But of the four there was not one — not even the 
tough old tar himself — who was not regularly done up, 
both with weariness of body and spirit. The short slumber 
upon the spit — from which they had been so unexpectedly 
startled — had refreshed them but little ; and, as they stood 
upon the summit of the sand-hill, all four felt as if they 
could drop down, and go to sleep on the instant. 

It was a couch sufficiently inviting, and they would at once 
have availed themselves of it, but for a circumstance that 
suggested to them the idea of seeking a still better place for 
repose. 


32 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


The land wind was blowing in from the ocean ; and, ac- 
cording to the forecast of Old Bill — a great practical me- 
teorologist, — it promised ere long to become a gale. It was 
already sufficiently violent — and chill to boot — to make 
the situation on the summit of the dune anything but com- 
fortable. There was no reason why they should make their 
couch upon that exposed prominence. Just on the land- 
ward side of the hillock itself — below, at its base — they 
perceived a more sheltered situation ; and why not select that 
spot for their resting place ? 

There was no reason why they should not. Old Bill 
proposed it ; there was no opposition offered by his young 
companions, — and, without further parley, the four went 
floundering down the sloping side of the sand-hill, into the 
sheltered convexity at its base. 

On arriving at the bottom, they found themselves in the 
narrowest of ravines. The hillock from which they had de- 
scended was but the highest summit of a long ridge, trending 
in the same direction as the coast. Another ridge, of about 
equal height, ran parallel to this on the landward side. The 
bases of the two approached so near, that their sloping sides 
formed an angle with each other. On account of the abrupt 
acclivity of both, this angle was almost acute, and the ravine 
between the two resembled a cavity out of which some great 
wedge had been cut, — like a section taken from the side of 
a gigantic melon. 

It was in this re-entrant angle that the castaways found 
themselves, after descending the side of the dune, and where 
they had proposed spending the remainder of the night. 

They were somewhat disappointed on reaching their 
sleeping-quarters, and finding them so limited as to space. 
In the bottom of the ravine there was not breadth enough 
for a bed, — even for the shortest of the party, — supposing 
him desirous of sleeping in a horizontal position. 

There were not six feet of surface — nor even three — 


VNCOMFORTABLE QUARTERS. 


33 


that could stiictly be called horizontal. Even longitudi- 
nally, the bottom of the “ gully ” had a sloping inclination : 
for the ravine itself tended upwards, until it became extin- 
guished in the convergence of its inclosing ridges. 

On discovering the unexpected “ strait ” into which they 
had launched themselves, our adventurers were for a time 
nonplussed. They felt inclined to proceed farther in search 
of a “ better bed,” but their weariness outweighed this in- 
clination ; and, after some hesitation, they resolved to remain 
in the “ ditch,” into which they had so unwillingly descended. 
They proceeded therefore to encouch themselves. 

Their first attempt was made by placing themselves in a 
half-standing position — their backs supported upon the 
sloping side of one of the ridges, with their feet resting 
against the other. So long as they kept awake, this posi- 
tion was both easy and pleasant ; but the moment any one 
of them closed his eyes in sleep, — and this was an event 
almost instantaneous, — his muscles, relaxed by slumber, 
would no longer have the strength to sustain him ; and the 
consequence would be an uncomfortable collapse to the bot- 
tom of the “ gully,” where anything like a position of repose 
was out of the question. 

This vexatious interruption of their slumbers happening 
repeatedly, at length roused all four to take fresh counsel as 
to choosing a fresh couch. 

Terence had been especially annoyed by these repeated 
disturbances ; and proclaimed his determination not to sub- 
mit to them any longer. He would go in search of more 
“ comfortable quarters.” 

He had arisen to his feet, and appeared in the act of start- 
ing off. 

“We had better not separate,” suggested Harry Blount. 
“If we do, we may find it difficult to come together 
again.” 

“ There ’s something in what you say, Hal,” said the young 
2 * 0 


34 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Scotchman. “ It will not do for us to lose sight of one an- 
other. What does Bill say to it ? ” 

“ I say, stay here,” put in the voice of the sailor. " It 
won’t do to stray the wan from the t’ other. No, it won’t. 
Let us holfl fast, thin, where we ’re already belayed.” 

But who the deuce can sleep here ? ” remonstrated the 
son of Firiu. “ A hard-worked horse can sleep standing ; 
and so can an elephant, they say ; but, for me, I ’d prefer 
six feet of the horizontal — even if it were a hard stone — 
to this flope of the softest sand.” 

“ Stay, Terry I ” cried Colin. “ I ’ve captured an idea.” 

Ah I you Scotch are always capturing something — 
whether it be an idea, a flea, or the itch. Let ’s hear what 
it L.” 

‘'After that insult to ma kintree,” good-humoredly re- 
joined Colin, “ I dinna know whuther I wull.” 

“ Come, Colin,” interrupted Harry Blount, “ if you Vo 
any good counsel to give us, pray don’t withhold it. We 
can’t get sleep, standing at an angle of forty-flve degrees. 
Why should we not try to change our position by seeking 
another place ? ” 

“Well, Harry, as you have made the request. I’ll tell 
you what ’s just come into my mind. I only feel astonished 
it did n’t occur to any of us sooner.” 

“ Mother av Moses I ” cried Terence, jocularly adopting 
his native brogue ; “ and why don’t you out with it at 
wanse ? — you Scatch are the thrue rid-tape of society.” 

“ Never mind. Colly ! ” interposed Blount ; “ there ’s no 
time to listen to Terry’s badinage. We’re all too sleepy 
for jesting ; tell us what you’ve got in your mind.” 

“ All of ye do as you see me, and, I ’ll be your bail, ye ’ll 
sleep sound till the dawn o’ the day. Good night ! ” 

As Colin pronounced the salutation he sank down to the 
bottom of the ravine, where, stretched longitudinally, he 
might repose without the slightest danger of being awakened 
by slipping from his couch. 


'WARE THE SANDl 


35 


On seeing him thus disposed, tlm others only wondered 
they had not thought of the thing before. 

Tliey were too sleepy to speculate long upon their own 
thoughtlessness ; and one after the other, imitating the ex- 
ample set them by the young Scotchman, laid their bodies 
lengthwise along the bottom of the ravine, and entered up- 
on the enjoyment of a slumber from which all the kettle- 
drums in creation would scarce have awaked them. 


CHAPTER XI 


'ware the sand I 


S the gully. in which they had gone to rest was too 



j\ narrow to permit of them lying side by side, they 
were disposed in a sort of lengthened chain, with their heads 
all turned in the same direction. The bottom of the ravine, 
as already stated, had a slight inclination ; and they had, of 
course, placed themselves so that their heads should be high- 
er than their feet. 

The old sailor was at the lower end of this singular se- 
ries, with the feet of Harry Blount just above the crown of 
his head. Above the head of Harry were the heels of Ter- 
ence O’Connor; and, at the top of all, reclined Colin, — in 
the place where he had first stretched himself. 

On account of the slope of the ground, the four were thus 
disposed in a sort of echelon formation, of which Old Bill 
was the base. They had dropped into their respective po- 
jitions, one after the other, as they lay. 

The sailor had been the last to commit himself to this 
gurous couch ; he was also the last to surrender to sleep. 
For some time after the others had become unconscious of 


36 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


outward impressions, he lay listening to the “ sough ” of the 
sea, and the sighing of the breeze, as it blew along the 
smooth sides of the sandhills. 

He did not remain awake for any great length of time. 
He was wearied, as well as his young comrades ; and soon 
also yielded his spirit to the embrace of the god Som- 
nus. 

Before doing so, however, he had made an observation, — 
one of a character pot likely to escape the notice of an old 
mariner such as he. He had become conscious that a storm 
was brewing in the sky. The sudden shadowing of the 
heavens ; — the complete disappearance of the moon, leav- 
ing even the white landscape in darkness ; — her red color 
as she went out of sight ; — the increased noise caused by 
the roaring of the breakers ; and the louder “ swishing ” of 
the wind itself, which began to blow in quick gusty puffs ; 
all these sights and sounds admonished him that a gale was 
coming on. 

He instinctively noted these signs; and on hoard ship 
would have heeded them, — so far as to have alarmed the 
sleeping watch, and counselled precaution. 

But stretched upon terra firma — not so very firm had he 
but known it — between two huge hills, where ,he and his 
companions were tolerably well sheltered from the wind, it 
never occurred to the old salt, that they could be in any 
danger; and simply muttering to himself, “the storm he 
blowed ! ” he laid his weather-beaten face upon the pillow 
of soft sand, and delivered himself up to deep slumber. 

The silent prediction of the sailor turned out a true fore- 
cast. Sure enough there came a storm ; which, before the 
castaways had been half an hour asleep, increased to a tem- 
pest. It was one of those sudden uprisings of the elements 
common in all tropical countries, but especially so in the des- 
ert tracts of Arabia and Africa, — where the atmosphere, 
rai’efied by heat, and becoming highly volatile, suddenly loses 


’WARE THE SAND I 


37 


its equilibrium, and rushes like a destroying angel over the 
surface of the earth. 

The phenomenon that had broken over the arenaceous 
couch, — upon which slept the four castaways, — was neither 
more nor less than a “ sandstorm ; ” or, to give it its Arab 
title, a simoom. 

The misty vapor that late hung suspended in the atmos- 
phere had been swept away by the first puff of the wind ; 
and its place was now occupied by a cloud equally dense, 
though perhaps not so constant, — a cloud of white sand 
lifted from the surface of the earth, and whirled high up to- 
wards heaven, — even far out over the waters of the ocean. 

Had it been daylight, huge volumes, of what might have 
appeared dust, might have been seen rolling over the ridges 
of sand, — here swirling into rounded pillar-like shapes, that 
could easily have been mistaken for solid columns, standing 
for a time in one place, then stalking over the summits of 
the hills, or suddenly breaking into confused and cumbering 
masses ; while the heavier particles, no longer kept in sus- 
pension by the rotatory whirl, might be seen spilling back 
towards the earth, like a sand-shower projected downward 
through some gigantic “ screen.” 

In the midst of this turbulent tempest of wind and sand, 
— with not a single drop of rain, — the castaways continued 
to sleep. 

One might suppose — as did the old man-o’-warVman 
before going to sleep — that they were not in any danger ; 
not even as much as if their couch had been under the roof 
of a house, or strewn amid the leaves of the forest. There 
were no trees to be blown down upon them, no bricks nor 
large chimney-pots to come crashing through the ceiling, 
and crush them as they lay upon their beds. 

What danger could there be among the “dunes? ” 

Not much to a man awake, and with open eyes. In such 
a situation, there might be discomfort, but no danger. 


88 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Different however, was it with the slumbering castaways. 
Over them a peril was suspended — a real peril — of which, 
perhaps, on that night not one of them was dreaming — and 
in which, perhaps, not one of them would have put belief, 
but for the experience of it they were destined to be taught 
before the 'morning. 

Could an eye have looked upon them as they lay, it would 
have beheld a picture sufficiently suggestive of danger. It 
would have seen four human figures stretched along the bot- 
tom of a narrow ravine, longitudinally aligned with one an- 
other — their heads all turned one way, and in point of 
elevation slightly en echelon — it would have noted that these 
forms were asleep, that they were already half buried in 
sand, which, apparently descending from the clouds was still 
settling around them ; and that, unless one or other of them 
awoke, all four should certainly become “ smoored.” 

What does this mean? Merely a slight inconvenience 
arising from having the mouth, ears, and nostrils obstructed 
by sand, which a little choking, and sneezing, and coughing 
would soon remove. 

Ask the Highland shepherd who has imprudently gone to 
sleep under the “ blowin* sna’ ” ; question the Scandinavian, 
whose calling compels him to encamp on the open “ fjeld ” ; 
interrogate Swede or Norwegian, Finn or Lapp, and you 
may discover the danger of being “ smoored.” 

That would be in the snow, — the light, vascular, porous, 
permeable snow, — under which a human being may move, 
and through which he may breathe, — though tons of it may 
be superpoised above his body, — the snow that, while im- 
prisoning its victim, also gives him warmth, and affords him 
shelter, — perilous as that shelter may be. 

Ask the Arab what it is to be smoored ” by sand ; ques- 
tion the wild Bedouin of the Bled-el-jereed, — the Tuarick 
and Tiboo of the Eastern Desert, — they v^ill tell you it is 
danger, often death / 


’WARE THE SANDl 


39 


Little dreamt the four sleepers as they lay uncouscious 
under that swirl of sand, — little even would they have sus- 
pected, if awake, — that there was danger in the situation. 

There was, for all that, a danger, great as it was immi- 
nent, — the danger, not only of their being “ smoored,” but 
stifled, suffocated, buried fathoms deep under the sands of 
the Saara, for fathoms deep will often be the drift of a 
single night. 

The Arabs say that, once “ submerged ” beneath the are- 
naceous “ flood,” a man loses the power to extricate himself. 
His energies are suspended, his senses become numbed and 
torpid — in short, he feels as one who goes to sleep in a 
snow-storm. 

It may be true ; but, whether or no, it seemed as if the 
four English castaways had been stricken with this inexpli- 
cable paralysis. Despite the hoarse roaring of the breakers, 
despite the shrieking and whistling of the wind, despite the 
dust constantly being deposited on their bodies, and entering 
ears, mouth, and nostrils, — despite the stifling sensation one 
would suppose they must have felt, and which should have 
awakened them, — despite all, they continued to sleep. It 
seemed as if that sleep was to be eternal ! 

If they heard not the storm that raged savagely above 
them, if they felt not the sand that pressed heavily upon 
them, what was there to warn, what to arouse^ them from 
that ill-starred slumber? 


40 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER XII. 

A MYSTERIOUS NIGHTMARE. 

T he four castaways had been asleep for a couple of 
hours, — that is, from the time that, following the ex- 
ample of the young Scotchman, they had stretched them- 
selves along the bottom of the ravine. It was not quite an 
hour, however, since the commencement of the sand-storm ; 
and yet in this short time the arenaceous dust had accumu- 
lated to the thickness of several inches upon their bodies ; 
and a person passing the spot, or even stepping right over 
them, could not have told that four human beings were bur- 
ied beneath, — that is, upon the supposition that they would 
have lain still, and not got startled from their slumbers by 
the foot thus treading upon them. 

Perhaps it was a fortunate circumstance for them, that by 
such a contingency they might be awakened, and that by 
such they were awakened. 

Otherwise their sleep might have been protracted into the 
still deeper sleep — from which there is no awaking. 

All four had begun to feel — if any sensation while asleep 
can be so called — a sense of suffocation, accompanied by a 
heaviness of the limbs and torpidity in the joints, — as if 
some immense weight was pressing upon their bodies, that 
rendered it impossible for them to stir either toe or finger. 
It was a sensation similar to that so well known, and so 
much dreaded, under the name of nightmare. It may have 
been the very same ; and was, perhaps, brought on as much 
by the extreme weariness they all felt, as by the superin- 
cumbent weight of the sand. 

Their heads, lying higher than their bodies, were not so 
deeply buried under the drift; which, blown lightly over 
their faces, still permitted the atmosphere to pass through i*. 



THE SAND STORM. 







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A MYSTERIOUS NIGHTMARE. 


41 


Otherwise their breathing would have been stopped alto- 
gether ; and death must have been the necessary conse- 
quence. 

Whether it was a genuine nightmare or no, it was accom- 
panied by all the horrors of this phenomenon. As they af- 
terwards declared, all four felt its influence, each in his own 
way dreaming of some fearful fascination from which he 
could make no effort to escape. Strange enough, their 
dreams were different. Harry Blount thought he was fall- ^ 
ing over a precipice; Colin that a gigantic ogre had got 
hold of and was going to eat him up ; while the young Hi- 
bernian fancied himself in the midst of a conflagration, a 
dwelling house on fire, from which he could not get out ! 

Old Bill’s delusion was more in keeping with their situa- 
tion, — or at least with that out of which they had lately 
escaped. He simply supposed that he was submerged in 
the sea, and as he knew he could not swim, it was but nat^ 
ural for him to fancy that he was drowning. 

Still, he could make no struggle ; and, as he would have 
done this, whether able to swim or not, his dream did not 
exactly resemble the real thing. 

The sailor was the first to escape from the uncomfortable 
incubus ; though there was but an instant between the 
awakening of all. They were startled out of their sleep, 
one after another, in the order in which they lay, and in- 
versely to that in which they had lain down. 

Their awakening was as mysterious as the nightmare 
itself, and scarce relieved them from the horror which the 
Utter had been occasioning. 

All felt in turn, and in quick succession, a heavy crushing 
pressure, either on the limbs or body, which had the effect, 
not only to startle them from their sleep, but caused them 
considerable pain. 

Twice was this pressure applied, almost exactly on the 
same spot, and with scarce a second’s interval between the 


42 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


applications. It could not well have been repeated a third 
time with like exactness, even had such been the design of 
whatever creature was causing it; for, after the second 
squeeze, each had recovered sufficient consciousness to know 
he was in danger of being crushed, and make a desperate 
effort to withdraw himself. 

The exclamations, proceeding from four sets of lips, told 
that all were still in the land of the living ; but the confused 
questioning that followed did nothing towards elucidating 
the cause of that sudden and almost simultaneous uprising. 

There was too much sneezing and coughing to permit of 
anything like clear or coherent speech. The shumu was 
still blowing. There was sand in the mouths and nostrils 
of all four, and dust in their eyes. Their talk more re- 
sembled the jibbering of apes, who had unwisely intruded 
into a snuff shop, than the conversation of four rational 
beings. 

It was some time before any one of them could shape hia 
speech, so as to be understood by the others ; and, after all 
. had at length succeeded in making themselves intelligible, it 
was found that each had the same story to tell. Each had 
felt two pressures on some part of his person ; and had 
seen, though very indistinctly, some huge creature passing 
over him, — apparently a quadruped, though what sort of 
quadruped none of them could tell. All they knew was, 
that it was a gigantic, uncouth creature, with a narrow body 
and neck, and very long legs ; and that it had feet there 
could be no doubt : since it was these that had pressed so 
heavily upon them. 

But for’the swirl of the sand-storm, and the dust already 
in their eyes, they might have been able to give a better 
description of the creature that had so unceremoniously 
stepped over them. These impediments, however, had 
hindered them from obtaining a fair view of it ; and some 
animal, -r- grotesquely shaped, with a long neck, body, and 


A MYSTERIOUS NIGHTMARE. 


43 


legs, — was the image which remained in the excited minds 
of the awakened sleepers. 

Whatever it was, they were all sufficiently frightened to 
stand for some time trembling. Just awaking from such 
dreams, it was but natural they should surrender themselves 
to strange imaginings ; and instead of endeavoring to iden- 
tify the odd-looking animal, if animal it was, they were 
rather inclined to set it down as some creature of a super- 
natural kind. 

The three midshipmen were but boys, not so long from 
the nursery as to have altogether escaped from the weird 
influence which many a nursery tale had wrapped around 
them ; and as for old Bill, fifty years spent in “ ploughing 
the ocean ” had only confirmed him in the belief, that the 
“ black art ” is not so mythical as philosophers would have 
us think. 

So frightened were all four, that, after the first ebullition 
of their surprise had subsided, they no longer gave utter- 
ance to speech, but stood listening, and trembling as they 
listened. Perhaps, had they known the service which the 
intruder had done for them, they might have felt gratitude 
towards it, instead of the suspicion and dread that for some 
moments kept them, as if spell-bound, in their places. It 
did not occur to any of the party, that that strange sum- 
mons from sleep — more effective than the half-whispered 
invitation of a valet-de-chamhrey or the ringing of a break- 
fast-bell — had in all probability rescued them from a silent, 
but certain death. 

They stood, as I have said, listening. There were sev- 
eral distinct sounds that saluted their ears. There was the 
“ sough ” of the sea, as it came swelling up the gorge ; the 
“ whish ” of the wind, as it impinged upon the crests of the 
ridges ; and the “ swish ” of the sand as it settled around 
them. 

All these were the voices of inanimate objects, — phenom- 


44 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


ena of nature, easily understood. But, rising above them, 
were heard sounds of a different character, which, though 
they might be equally natural, were not equally familiar to 
those who listened to them. 

There was a sort of dull battering, — as if some gigantic 
creature was performing a Terpsichorean feat upon the 
sand-bank above them ; but sharper sounds were heard at 
intervals, — screams commingled with short snortings, both 
proclaiming something of the nature of a struggle. 

Neither in the screams nor the snortings was there any- 
thing that the listeners could identify as sounds they had 
ever heard before. They were alike perplexing to the ears 
of English, Irish, and Scotch. Even old Bill, who had 
heard, sometime or other, nearly every sound known to cre- 
ation, could not classify them. 

Divil take thim ! ” whispered he to his companions ^ “ I 
dinna know what to make av it. It be hawful to ’ear ’em ! ” 

“ Hark ! ” ejaculated Harry Blount. 

“ Hish ! ” exclaimed Terence. 

“ Wheesh !” muttered Colin. “ It’s coming nearer, what- 
ever it may be. Wheesh ! ” 

There could be no doubt about the truth of this conjec- 
ture ; for as the caution passed from the lips of the young 
Scotchman, the dull hammering, the snorts, and the un- 
earthly screams were evidently drawing nearer, — though 
the creature that was causing them was unseen through the 
thick sand-mist still surrounding the listeners. These, how- 
ever, heard enough to know that some heavy body was mak- 
ing a rapid descent down the sloping gorge, and with an im- 
petuosity that rendered it prudent for them to get out of its 
way. 

More by an instinct, than from any correct appreciation 
of the danger, all four fell back from the narrow trench in 
which they had been standing, — each, as he best could, re- 
treating up the declivity of the sand-hill. 


THE MAHERRT. 


45 


Scarce were they able to obtain footing in their new posi- 
tion, when the sounds they had heard not only became 
louder and nearer, but the creature that had been causing 
them passed close to their feet, — so close that most of them 
could have touched it with their toes. 

For all that, not one of the party could tell what it was ; 
and after it had passed, — on its way down the ravine, — 
and was once more lost to their view amid the swirling sand, 
they were not a bit further advanced in their knowledge of 
the strange creature that had come so near crushing out their 
existence with its ponderous weight ! 

All that they had been able to see was a conglomeration 
of dark objects, — resembling the head, neck, body, and 
limbs of some uncouth animal, — while the sounds that pro-' 
ceeded from it were like utterances that might have come 
from some other world ; for certainly they had but slight 
resemblance to anything the castaways had ever heard in 
this — either upon sea, or land I 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE MAHERRT. 

F or some length of time they stood conjecturing, — the 
boys with clasped hands, — Old Bill near, but apart. 
During this time, at intervals, they continued to hear the 
sounds that had so astonished them — the stamping, the 
snorts, and the screaming, though they no longer saw the 
creature that caused them. 

The sand gully opened towards the sea, in a diagonal 
direction. It could not be many yards to the spot, where it 
debouched upon the level of the beach ; and the creature 


46 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


that had caused them such a surprise — and was still con- 
tinuing to occupy their thoughts — must have reached this 
level surface : though not to suspend its exertions. Every 
now and then could be heard the same repetition of dull 
noises, — as if some animal was kicking itself to death, — 
varied by trumpet-like snorts and agonizing screams, which 
could be likened to the cry of no animal upon earth. 

But that the castaways knew they were on the coast of 
Africa, — that continent renowned for strange existences, — 
they might have been even more disposed to a supernatural 
belief in what was near them ; but as the minutes passed, 
and their senses began to return to them, they became more 
inclined to think that what they had seen, heard, and felt, 
might be only some animal — a heavy quadruped — that 
had trampled over them in their sleep. 

The chief difficulty in reconciling this belief with the ar 
tual occurrence was the odd behavior of the animal. Why 
had it gone up the gorge, apparently parenti passu, to come 
tumbling down again in such a confused fashion ? Why was 
it still kicking and stumbling about at the bottom of the ra- 
vine, — for such did the sounds proclaim it to be doing ? 

No answer could be given to either of these questions ; 
and none was given, until day dawned over the sand-hills. 
This was soon after; and along with -the morning light had 
come the cessation of the simoom. 

Then saw the castaways that creature that had so abrupt- 
ly awakened them from their slumbers, — and, by so doing, 
perhaps, saved their lives. They saw it recumbent at the 
bottom of the gorge, where they had so uneasily passed the 
night. 

It proved to be — what from the slight glimpse they had 
got of it, they were inclined to believe — an animal, and a 
quadruped ; and if it had presented an uncouth appearance, 
as it stepped over them in the darkness, not less so did it 
appear as they now beheld it, under the light of day. 


THE MAHERRY. 


47 


It was an animal of very large size, — in height far ex- 
ceeding a horse, — but of such a grotesque shape as to bo 
easily recognizable by any one who had ever glanced into a 
picture-book of quadrupeds. The long craning neck, with 
an almost earless head and gibbous profile ; the great strag 
gling limbs, callous at the knees, and ending in broad, wide- 
splitting hooves ; the slender hind-quarters, and tiny, tufted 
tail, — both ludicrously disproportioned, — the tumid, mis- 
shapen trunk ; but, above all, the huge hunch rising above 
the shoulders, at once proclaimed the creature to be a drome- 
dary. 

“ Och ! it ’s only a kaymal ! ” cried Old Bill, as soon as 
the daylight enabled him to get a fair view of the animal. 
“ What on hearth is it doin^ ’ere ? ” 

“Sure enough,” suggested Terence, “it was this beast 
that stepped over us while we were asleep! It almost 
squeezed the breath out of me, for it set its hoof right upon 
the pit of my stomach.” 

“The same with me,” said Colin. “It sunk me down 
nearly a foot into the sand. Ah, we have reason to be 
thankful there was that drift-sand over our bodies at the 
time. If not, the great brute might have crushed us to 
death ! ” 

There was some truth in Colin’s observation. But for 
the covering of sand, — which acted as a cushion, — and also 
from that which formed their couch yielding beneath them, 
the hoof of the great quadruped might have caused them a 
serious injury. As it was, none of them had received any 
hurt beyond the fright which the strange intruder had occa- 
sioned them. 

The singular incident was yet only half explained. They 
saw it was a camel that had disturbed their slumbers ; that 
the animal had been on its way up the ravine, — perhaps 
seeking shelter from the sand-storm ; but what had caused 
it to return so suddenly back down the slope ? Above all, 


48 


THE BOY SLAVES, 


why had it made the downward journey in such a singular 
manner ? Obscure as had been their view of it, they could 
see that it did not go on all-fours, but apparently tumbling 
and struggling, — its long limbs kicking about in the air, as 
if it was performing the descent by a series of somersaults. 

All this had been mysterious enough ; but it was soon ex- 
plained to the satisfaction of the four castaways, who, as 
soon as they saw the camel by the bottom of the gorge, had 
rushed down and surrounded it. 

The animal was in a recumbent position, — not as if it had 
Iain down to rest, but in a constrained attitude, with its long 
neck drawn in towards its forelegs, and its head lying low 
and half-buried in the sand ! 

As it was motionless when they first perceived it, they 
fancied it w^as dead, — that something had wounded it 
above. This would have explained the fantastic fashion in 
which it had returned down the slope, — as the somersaults 
observed might have been only a series of death struggles. 

On getting around it, however, they perceived that it was 
not only still alive, but in perfect health ; and its late mys- 
terious movements were accounted for at a single glance. 
A strong hair halter, firmly noosed around its head, had got 
caught in the bifurcation of one of its fore-hoofs, where a 
knot upon the rope had hindered it from slipping through 
the deep split. This had first caused it to trip up, and tum- 
ble head over heels, — inaugurating that series of struggles 
which had ended in transporting it back to the bottom of 
the ravine, — where it now lay with the trailing end of the 
long halter knotted inextricably around its legs. 


A LIQUID BREAKFAST. 


49 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A LIQUID BREAKFAST. 

M elancholy as was the situation of the self-caught 
camel, it was a joyful sight to those who beheld it. 
Hungry as they were, its flesh would provide them with 
food ; and thirsting as they were, they knew that inside its 
stomach would be found a supply of water ! 

Such were their first thoughts as they came around it. 
They soon perceived, however, that to satisfy the latter 
appetite it would not be necessary for them to kill the camel. 
Upon the top of its hump was a small, flat pad or saddle, 
firmly held in its place by a strong leathern band passing 
under the animal’s belly. This proved it to be a “ maherry,’' 
or riding camel, — one of those swift creatures used by the 
Arabs in their long rapid journeys across the deserts ; and 
which are common among the tribes inhabiting the Saara. 

It was not this saddle that gratified the eyes of our ad- 
venturers, but a bag, tightly strapped to it, and resting be- 
hind the hump of the maherry. This bag was of goatskin, 
and upon examination was found to be nearly half-full of 
water. It was, in fact, the “ Gerba,” or water-skin, belonging 
to whoever had been the owner of the animal, — an article 
of camel equipment more essential than the saddle itself. 

The four castaways, suffering the torture of thirst, made 
no scruple about appropriating the contents of the bag, and, 
in the shortest possible time, it was stripped from the back 
of the maherry, its stopper taken out, and the precious fluid 
extracted from it by all four, in greedy succession, until its 
light weight and collapsed sides declared it to be empty. 

Their thirst being thus opportunely assuaged, a council 
was next held, as to what they should do to appease the 
other appetite. 


3 


D 


60 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Should they kill the camel ? 

It appeared to be their only chance ; and the impetuous 
Terence had already unsheathed his midshipman’s dirk, with 
the design of burying it in the body of the animal. 

Colin, however, more prudent in counsel, cried to him to 
hold, his hand, — at least until they should give the subject 
a more thorough consideration. 

On this suggestion they proceeded to debate the point be- 
tween them. They were of different opiiyons, and equally 
divided. Two, — Terence and Harry Blount, — were for 
immediately killing the maherry, and making their break- 
fast upon its flesh ; while the sailor joined Colin in voting 
that it should be reprieved. 

“ Let us first make use of the animal to help carry us 
somewhere,” urged the young Scotchman. “We can go 
without food a day longer. Then, if we find nothing, we can 
butcher this beast.” 

“ But what ’s to be found in such a country as this ? ” 
inquired Harry Blount. “ Look around you ! There ’s noth- 
ing green but the sea itself. There is n’t anything eatable 
wdthin sight, — not so much as would make a dinner for a 
dormouse ! ” 

“ Perhaps,” rejoined Colin, “ when we Ve travelled a few 
miles, we may come upon a different sort of country. We 
can keep along the coast. Why should n’t we find shell- 
fish, — enough to keep us alive ? See, — yonder ’s a dark 
place down upon the beach. 1 should n’t wonder if there 's 
some there.” 

The glances of all were instantly directed towards the 
beach, — excepting those of Sailor Bill. His were fixed on 
a different object ; and an exclamation that escaped him — 
as well as a movement that accompanied it — arrested the 
attention of his companions, causing them to turn their eyes 
upon him. 

“ Shell-fish be blow’d,” cried Bill, “ here ’s something 
better for breakfast than cowld oysters. Look ! ” 


A LIQUID BREAKFAST. 


51 


“ The sailor, as he spoke, pointed to an oval-shaped ob- 
ject, something larger than a cocoa-nut, appearing between 
the hind legs of the maherry. 

“ It ’s a shemale ! ” added he, “ and ’s had a calf not long 
ago. Look at the ‘ eldher,’ and them tits. They ’re swelled 
wi’ milk. There ’ll be enough for the whole of us, I war- 
rant yez.” 

As if to make sure of what he said, the sailor dropped 
down upon his knees by the hind-quarters of the prostrate 
camel ; and, taking one of the teats in his mouth, commenced 
drawing forth the lacteal fluid which the udder contained. 

The animal made no resistance. It might have wondered 
at the curious “ calf” that had thus attached himself to its 
teats ; but only at the oddness of his color and costume ; for 
no doubt it had often before been similarly served by its 
African owner. 

“ Fust rate ! ” cried Bill, desisting for a moment to take 
breath. “ Ayqual to the richest crame ; if we ’d only a bite 
av bred to go along wi’ it, or some av your Scotch porritch. 
Master Colin. But I forgets. My brave youngsters,” con- 
tinued he, rising up and standing to one side, “ yez be all 
hungrier than I am. Go it, wan after another : there ’ll be 
enough for yez all.” 

Thus invited, and impelled by their hungry cravings, the 
three, one after another, knelt down as the sailor had done, 
and drank copiously from that sweet “ fountain of the des- 
ert.” 

Taking it in turns, they continued “ sucking,” until each 
had swallowed about a pint and a half of the nutritious fluid , 
when, the udder of the camel becoming dry, told that her 
supply of milk was, foi* the time, exhausted. 


52 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE SAILOR AMONG THE SHELL-FISH. 

I T was no longer a question of slaying the camel. Thai 
would be killing the goose that gave the golden eggs. 
Though they were still very hungry, the rich milk had to 
some extent taken the keen edge off their appetites ; and all 
declared they could now go several hours without eating. 
The next question was : where were they to go ? 

The reader may wonder that this was a question at all. 
^ Having been told that the camel carried a saddle, and was 
otherwise caparisoned, it will naturally be conjectured that 
the animal had got loose from some owner, and was simply 
straying. This was the very hypothesis that passed before 
the mind of our adventurers. How could they have con- 
jectured otherwise ? 

Indeed it was scarce a guess. The circumstances told 
them to a certainty that the camel must have strayed from 
its owner. The only question was : where that owner might 
be found. 

By reading, or otherwise, they possessed enough knowl- 
edge of the coast, on which they had been cast away, to 
know that the proprietor of the “ stray ” would be some 
kind of an Arab ; and that he would be found living — not 
in a house or a town — but in a tent ; in all likelihood 
associated with a number of other Arabs, in an “ encamp- 
ment.” 

It required not much reasoning to arrive at these conclu- 
sions ; and our adventurers had come to them almost on 
that instant, when they first set eyes on the caparisoned 
camel. 

You may wonder that they did not instantly set forth in 
search of the master of the maherry ; or of the tent or en- 


THE SAILOR AMONG THE SHELL-FISH. 


53 


campment from which the latter should have strayed. One 
might suppose, that this would have been their first move- 
ment. 

On the contrary, it was likely to be their very last ; and 
for sufficient reasons, — which will be discovered in the con- 
versation that ensued, after they had swallowed their liquid 
breakfasts. » 

Terence had proposed adopting this course, — that is, to 
go in search of the man from whom the maherry must have 
wandered. The young Irishman had never been a great 
reader, — at all events no account of the many “ lamentable 
shipwrecks on the Barbary coast” had ever fallen into his 
hands, — and he knew nothing of the terrible reputation of 
its people. Neither had Bill obtained any knowledge of it 
from books ; but, for all that, — thanks to many a forecastle 
yarn, — the old sailor was well informed both about the 
character of the coast on which they had suffered shipwreck, 
and its inhabitants. Bill had the best of reasons for dread- 
ing the denizens of the Saaran desert. 

‘‘ Sure they 're not cannibals ? ” urged Terence. “ They 
won’t eat us, any how ? ” 

“ In troth I ’m not so shure av that, Masther Terry,” re- 
plied Bill. “ Even supposin’ they won’t ate us, they ’ll do 
worse.” 

Worse ! ” 

‘‘ Aye, worse, I tell you. They ’d torture us, till death 
would be a blissin’.” 

‘‘ How do you know they would ? ” 

‘‘ Ach, Masther Terry ! ” sighed the old sailor, assuming 
an air of solemnity, such as his young comrades had never 
before witnessed upon his usually cheerful countenance ; “ I 
could tell yez something that ’ud convince ye of the truth 
av what I ’ve been sayin’, an’ that ’ll gie ye a hidear av what 
we ’ve got to expect if we fall into the ’ands av these feero 
cious Ayrabs.” 


54 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Bill had already hinted at the prospective peril of an en- 
counter with the people of the country. 

“ Tell us, Bill. What is it?’ 

“Well, young masthers, it beant much, — only that my 
own brother was wrecked som’ere on this same coast. That 
was ten years agone. He never returned to owld Heng- 
land.” 

“ Perhaps he was drowned ? ” 

“ Betther for ’im, poor boy, if he ’ad. No, he ’ad n’t that 
luck. The crew, — it was a tradin’ vessel, and there wai» 
tin o’ them, — all got safe ashore. They were taken pris- 
oners as they landed by a lot o’ Ayrabs. Only one av the 
tin got home to tell the tale ; and he would n’t a ’ad the 
chance but for a Jew merchant at Mogador, that found he 
had rich relations as ’ud pay well to ransom him. I see 
him a wee while after he got back to Hengland ; and he 
tell me what he had to go through, and my hown brother as 
well : for Jim, — that be my brother’s name, — was with the 
tribe as took ’im up the counthry. None o’ yez iver heerd 
o’ cruelties like they ’ad to put up with. Death in any way 
would be aisy, compared to what they ’ad to hendure. Poor 
Jim ! I suppose he ’s dead long ago. Tough as I be my- 
self, I don’t believe I could a stood it a week, — let alone 
tin years. Talk o’ knockin’ about like a Turk’s head. They 
were knocked about, an’ beat, an’ bullied, an’ kicked, an’ 
starved, — worse than the laziest lubber as ever skulked 
about the decks o’ a ship. No, Masther Terry, we must n’t 
think av thryin’ to find the owner av the beest ; but do 
everythink we can to keep out o’ the way av both him and 
his.” 

“ What would you advise us to do, Bill ? ” 

“ I don’t know much ’bout where we be,” replied the 
sailor ; “ but wheresomever it is, our best plan are to hug 
by the coast, an’ keep within sight o’ the water. If we go 
innard, we ’re sure to get lost one way or t’ other. By keep- 


rilE OLD SAILOR SUCCEEDS IN GATHERING SOME SHELL-FISH. 



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THE SAILOR AMONG THE SHELL-FISH. 


55 


in’ soutli’ard we may come to some thradin’ port av the 
Portagee.” 

“ We ’d better start at once, then,” suggested the impa- 
tient Terence. 

“ No, Masther Terry,” said the sailor ; ‘‘ not afore night. 
We musn’t leave ’eer till it gets dark. We T1 ’ave to thravel 
betwane two days.” 

“What!” simultaneously exclaimed the three midship- 
men. “ Stay here till night ! Impossible ! ” 

“ Aye, lads ! an’ we must hide, too. Shure as ye are 
livin’ there ’ll be somebody afther this sthray kaymal, — in 
a wee while, too, as ye ’ll see. If we ventured out durin’ 
the daylight, they ’d be sure to see us from the ’ills. It ’s 
sayed, the thievin’ schoundrels always keep watch when 
there ’s been a wreck upon the coast ; an’ I ’ll be bound this 
beest belongs to some av them same wreckers.” 

“ But what shall we do for food ? ” asked one of the party ; 
“ we ’ll be famished before nightfall I The camel, having 
nothing to eat or drink, won’t yield any more milk.” 

This interrogative conjecture was probably too near the 
truth. No one made answer to it. Colin’s eyes were again 
turned towards the beach. Once more he directed the 
thoughts of his comrades to the shell-fish. 

“ Hold your hands, youngsthers,” said the sailor. “ Lie 
close ’eer behind the ’ill, an’ I ’ll see if there ’s any shell-fish 
that we can make a meal av. Now that the sun ’s up, it 
won’t do to walk down there. I must make a crawl av it.” 

So saying, the old salt, after skulking some distance farther 
down the sand gully, threw himself flat upon his face, and 
advanced in this attitude, hke some gigantic lizard crawling 
across the sand. 

The tide was out ; but the wet beach, lately covered by 
the sea, commenced at a short distance from the base of the 
“ dunes.” 

After a ten minutes’ struggle. Bill succeeded in reaching 


56 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


the dark-looking spot where Colin had conjectured there 
might be shell-fish. 

The old sailor was soon seen busily engaged about some- 
thing ; and from his movements it was evident, that his errand 
was not to prove fruitless. His hands were extended in differ- 
ent directions ; and then at short intervals withdrawn, and 
plunged into the capacious pockets of his pea-jacket. 

After these gestures had been continued for about half an 
hour, he was seen to “slew” himself round, and come 
crawling back towards the sand-hills. 

His return was effected more slowly than his departure ; 
and it could be seen that he was heavily weighted. 

On getting back into the gorge, he was at once relieved 
of his load, which proved to consist of about three hundred 
“ cockles,” — as he called the shell-fish he had collected, — 
and which were found to be a species of mussel. 

They were not only edible, but delicious, — at least they 
seemed so to those who were called upon to swallow them. 

This seasonable supply did a great deal towards allaying 
the appetites of all ; and even Terence now declared himself 
contented to remain concealed, until night should afford 
them an opportunity of escape from the monotony of their 
situation. 


CHAPTER XVI 


KEEPING UNDER COVER. 



ROM the spot, where the camel still lay couched in his 


JL^ “ entetherment,” the sea was not visible to one lying 
along the ground. It was only by standing erect, and look- 
ing over a spur of the sand-ridge, that the beach could be 
seen, and the ocean beyond it. 

There would be no danger, therefore, of their h^irg dis- 


KEEPING UNDER COVER. 


57 


covered, by any one coming along the strand — provided 
they kept in a crouching attitude behind the ridge, v hich, 
sharply crested, like a snow-wreath, formed a sort of parapet 
in front of them. They might have been easily seen from 
the summit of any of the ‘‘ dunes ” to the rear ; but there 
was not much likelihood of any one approaching them in 
that direction. The country inward appeared to be a laby- 
rinth of sand-hills — with no opening that would indicate a 
passage for either man or beast. The camel, in all proba- 
bility, had taken to the gorge — guided by its instincts — 
there to seek shelter from the sand-storm. The fact of its 
carrying a saddle showed that its owner must have been 
upon the march, at the time it escaped from him. Had our 
adventurers been better acquainted with Saaran customs, 
they would have concluded that this had been the case : for 
they would have known that, on the approach of a shuma ” 
— the “ forecasts ” of which are well known — the Be- 
douins at once, and in all haste, break up their encamp- 
ments ; and put themselves, and their whole personal 
property, in motion. Otherwise, they would be in danger 
of getting smoored under the settling sand-drift. 

Following the counsels of the sailor — whose desert 
knowledge appeared as extensive as if it, and not the sea, 
had been his habitual home — our adventurers crouched 
down in such a way as not to be seen by any one passing 
along the beach. 

Scarcely had they placed themselves in this humble atti- 
tude, when Old Bill — who had been keeping watch all the 
while, with only the upper half of his head elevated above 
the combing of the sand-wreath — announced, by a low ex- 
clamation, that something was in sight. 

Two dark forms were seen coming along the shore, from 
the southward ; but at so great a distance that it was impos- 
sible to tell what sort of creatures they might turn out, 

“ Let me have a look,” proposed Colin. “ By good luck, 


58 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


I Ve got my glass. It was in my pocket as we escaped 
from the ship ; and I did n’t think of throwing it away.” 

As the young Scotchman spoke, he took from the breast 
of his dreadnought jacket, a small telescope, — which, when 
drawn out to its full extent, exhibited a series of tubes, en 
echelon^ about half a yard in length. Directing it upon the 
dark objects, — at the same time taking the precaution to 
keep his own head as low down as possible, — he at once 
proclaimed their character. 

“ They ’re two bonny bodies,” said he, “ dressed in all the 
colors of the rainbow. I can see bright shawls, and red 
caps, and striped cloaks. One is mounted on a horse ; the 
other bestrides a camel, — just such a one as this by our 
side. They ’re coming along slowly ; and appear to be star- 
ing about them.” 

“ Ah, that be hit,” said Old Bill. “ It be the howners of 
this ’eer brute. They be on the sarch for her. Lucky the 
drift-sand hae covered her tracks, — else they ’d come right 
on to us. Lie low, Masther Colin. We mayn’t show our 
heeds over the combin’ o’ the sand. They ’d be sure to see 
the size o’ a saxpence. We maun keep awthegither oot o* 
sicht.” 

One of the old sailor’s peculiarities — or, perhaps, it 
may have been an eccentricity — was, that in addressing 
himself to his companions, he was almost sure to assume 
the national patois of the individual spoken to. In any- 
thing like a continued conversation with Harry Blount, 
his “ h’s ” were handled in a most unfashionable manner ; 
and while talking with Terence, the JVIilesian came from 
his lips, in a brogue almost as pure as Tipperary could 
produce. 

In a tete-a-tete with Colin, the listener might have sworn 
that Bill was more Scotch than the young Macpherson him- 
self. 

Colin perceived the justice of the sailor’s suggestion ; and 


KEEPING UNDER COVER. 


59 


immediately ducked his head below the level of the parapet 
of sand. 

This placed our adventurers in a position at once irksome 
and uncertain. Curiosity, if nothing else, rendered them 
desirous to watch the movements of the men who were ap- 
proaching. Without noting these, they would not be able 
to tell when they might again raise their heads above the 
ridge ; and might do so, just at the time when the horseman 
and the rider of the maherry were either opposite or within 
Bight of them. 

As the sailor had said, any dark object of the size of a 
sixpence would be seen if presented above the smooth comb- 
ing of snow-white sand ; and it was evident to all that for 
one of them to look over it might lead to their being dis- 
covered. 

While discussing this point, they knew that some time 
had elapsed ; and, although the eyes they dreaded might 
Btill be distant, they could not help thinking, that they were 
near enough to see them if only the hair of their heads 
should be shown above the sand. 

They reflected naturally. They knew that these sons of 
the desert must be gifted with keen instincts ; or, at all events, 
with an experience that would enable them to detect the 
slightest “ fault ” in the aspect of a landscape, so well known 
to them, — in short, that they would notice anything that 
might appear “ abnormal ” in it. 

From that time their situation was one of doubt and anx- 
iety. They dared not give even as much as a glance over 
the smooth, snow-white sand. They could only crouch be- 
hind it, in anxious expectation, knowing not when that du- 
bious condition of things could be safely brought to a close. 

Luckily they were relieved from it, and sooner than they 
had expected. Colin it was who discovered a way to get 
out of the difficulty. 

“ Ha ! ” exclaimed he, as an ingenious conception sprang 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CO 

up in his mind. “ I Ve got an idea that ’ll do. I ’ll watch 
these fellows, without giving them a chance of seeing me. 
That will 1.” 

“ How ? ” asked the others. 

Colin made no verbal reply ; but instead, he was seen to 
insert his telescope into the sand-parapet, in such a way that 
its tube passed clear through to the other side, and of course 
commanded a view of the beach, along which the two forms 
were advancing. 

As soon as he had done so, he placed his eye to the glass, 
and, in a cautious whisper, announced that both the horse- 
man and camel-rider were within his “ field of view.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE TRAIL ON THE SAND. 

T he tube of the telescope, firmly imbedded in the sand, 
kept its place without the necessity of being held in 
hand. It only required to be slightly shifted as the horse- 
man and camel-rider changed place, — so as to keep them 
within its field of view. 

By this means our adventurers were able to mark their 
approach and note every movement they made, without 
much risk of being seen themselves. Each of them took 
a peep through the glass to satisfy their curiosity, and then 
the instrument was wholly intrusted to its owner, who was 
thenceforth constantly to keep his eye to it, and observe the 
movements of the strangers. This the young Scotchman 
did, at intervals communicating with his companions in a 
low voice. 

I can make out their faces.” muttered he, after a time i 


THE TRAIL ON THE SAND. 


61 


and ugly enough are they. One is yellow, the other black. 
He must be a negro, — of course he is, — he ’s got woolly 
hair too. It’s he that rides the camel, — just such another 
as this that stumbled over us. The yellow man upon the 
horse has a pointed beard upon his chin. He has a sharp 
look, like those Moors we’ve seen at Tetuan. He’s an 
Arab, I suppose. He appears to be the master of the black 
man. I can see him make gestures, as if he was directing 
him to do something. There ! they have stopped, — they 
are looking this way ! ” 

“ Marcy on us I ” muttered old Bill, if they have speered 
the glass ! ” 

“ Troth ! that ’s like enough,” said Terence. “ It ’ll be 
flashing in the sun outside the sand. That sharp-eyed Arab 
is almost sure to see it” 

Had you not better draw it in ? ” suggested Harry 
Blount 

True,” answered Colin. “ But I fear it would be too 
late now. If that ’s what halted them, it ’s all over with us, 
BO far as hiding goes.” 

‘‘ Slip it in, any how. If they don’t see it any more, they 
may n’t come quite up to the ridge.” 

Colin was about to follow the advice thus offered, when 
on taking what he intended to be a last squint through the 
telescope, he perceived that the travellers were moving on 
up the beach, as if they had seen nothing that called upon 
them to deviate from their course. 

Fortunately for the four “ stowaways,” it was not the 
sparkle of the lens that had caused them to make that stop. 
A ravine, or opening through the sand-ridges, much larger 
than that in which our adventurers were concealed, emJoMcAeea 
upon the beach, some distance below. It was the appear- 
ance of this opening that had attracted the attention of the 
two mounted men ; and from their gestures Colin could tell 
they were talking about it, as if undecided whether tc go 
that way or keep on up the strand. 


62 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


It ended by the yellow man putting spurs to bis horse, 
and galloping off up the ravine, followed by the black man 
on the camel. 

From the way in which both behaved, — keeping their 
eyes generally bent upon the ground, but at intervals gazing 
about over the country, — it was evident they were in search 
of something, and this would be the she-camel that lay teth- 
ered in the bottom of the sand-gorge, close to the spot occu- 
pied by our adventurers. 

“ They 've gone off on the wrong track,” said Colin, tak- 
ing his eye from the glass as soon as the switch tail of the 
maherry disappeared behind the slope of a sand-dune. “ So 
much the better for us. My heart was at my mouth just a 
minute ago. I was sure it was all over with us.” 

“ You think they have n’t seen the shine of the lens ? ” in- 
terrogated Harry. 

“ Of course not ; or else they ’d have come on to examine 
it. Instead, they ’ve left the beach altogether. They ’ve 
gone inland, among the hills. They ’re no longer in sight.” 

“ Good ! ” ejaculated Terence, raising his head over the 
ridge, as did also the others. 

“ Och ! good yez may well say, Masther Terence. Jist 
look fwhot fools we’ve been all four av us! We never 
thought av the thracks, nayther wan nor other av us I ” 

As Bill spoke, he pointed down towards the beach, in the 
direction in which he had made liis late crawling excursion. 
There, distinctly traceable in the half-wet sand, were the 
marks he had made both going and returning, as if a huge 
tortoise or crocodile had been dragging itself over the 
ground. 

The truth of his words was apparent to all. It was chance 
and not their cunning that had saved them from discovery. 
Had the owner of the camel but continued another hundred 
yards along the beach, he could not have failed to see the 
double “ trail ” made by the sailor, and of course would have 


THE “DESERT SHIP.” 


63 


followed it to the spot where they were hidden. As it was, 
the two mounted men had not come near enough to note the 
sign made by the old salt in his laborious flounderings ; and 
perhaps fancying they had followed the strand far enough, 
they had struck off into the interior, — through the opening 
of the sand-hills, in the belief that the she-camel might have 
done the same. 

Whatever may have been their reason, they were now 
gone out of sight, and the long stretch of desert shore was 
once more under the eyes of our adventurers, unrelieved by 
the appearance of anything that might be called a living 
creature. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE ‘‘desert ship.” 

T hough there was now nothing within sight between 
them, they did not think it prudent to move out of the 
gorge, nor even to raise their heads above the level of the 
sand-wreath. They did so only at intervals, to assure them- 
selves that the “coast was clear”; and satisfied on this 
score, they would lower their heads again, and remain in this 
attitude of concealment. 

One with but slight knowledge of the circumstances — or 
with the country in which they were — might consider them 
over-cautious in acting thus, and might fancy that in their 
forlorn, shipwrecked condition they should have been but 
too glad to meet men. 

On the contrary, a creature of their own shape was the 
last thing they desired either to see or encounter ; and for 
tlie reasons already given in their conversation, they could 
meet no men there who would not be their enemies,—' 


64 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


worse than that, ttieir tyrants, perhaps their torturers. Old 
Bill was sure of this from what he had heard. So were 
Colin and Harry from what they had read. Terence alone 
was incredulous as to the cruelty of which the sailor had 
given such a graphic picture. 

Terence, however rash he was by nature, allowed him- 
self to be overruled by his more prudent companions ; and 
therefore, up to the hour when the twilight began to em- 
purple the sea, no movement towards stirring from their 
place of concealment was made by any of the party. 

The patient camel shared their silent retreat; though 
they had taken precautions against its straying from them, 
had it felt so inclined, by tying its shanks securely together. 
Towards evening the animal was again milked, in the same 
fashion as in the morning ; and, reinvigorated by its bounti- 
ful yield, our adventurers prepared to depart from a spot, 
of which, notwithstanding the friendly concealment it had 
afforded them, they were all heartily tired. 

Their preparations were easily made, and occupied scarce 
ten seconds of time. It was only to untether the camel and 
take to the road, or, as Harry jocosely termed it, “ unmoor 
the desert ship and begin their voyage.” 

Just as the last gleam of daylight forsook the white crests 
of the sand-hills, and went flickering afar over the blue 
waters of the ocean, they stole forth from their hiding-place, 
and started upon a journey of which they knew neither the 
length nor the ending. 

Even of the direction of that undetermined journey they 
had but a vague conception. They believed that the coast 
trended northward and southward, and that one of these 
points was the proper one to head for. It was almost 
“ heads or tails ” which of them they should take ; and had 
they been better acquainted with their true situation, it 
might as well have been determined by a toss-up, for any 
chance they had of ever arriving at a civilized settlement 


THE “DESERT SHIP.’ 


65 


But they knew not that. They had a belief — the old 
sailor stronger than the rest — that there were Portuguese 
forts along the coast, chiefly to the southward, and that by 
keeping along shore they might reach one of these. There 
were such establishments it is true — still are ; and though 
at that time there were some nearer to the point where their 
ship had been wrecked, none were near enough to be reached 
by the starving castaway, however perseveringly he might 
travel towards them. 

Ignorant of the impracticability of their attempt, our ad- 
venturers entered upon it with a spirit worthy of success, — 
worthy of the country from which they had come. 

For some time the maherry was led in hand, old Bill 
being its conductor. All four had been well rested during 
the day, and none of them cared to ride. 

As the tide, however, was now beginning to creep up 
into the sundry inlets, to avoid walking in water, they were 
compelled to keep well high up on the beach ; and this 
forced them to make their way through the soft yielding 
sand, a course that required considerable exertion. 

One after another now began to feel fatigue, and talk 
about it as well ; and then the proposal was made, that the 
maherry — who stepped over the unsure surface with as 
much apparent lightness as a cat would have done — should 
be made to carry at least one of the party. They could 
ride in turns, which would give each of them an opportunity 
of resting. 

No sooner was the proposition made than it was carried 
into execution. Terence, who had been the one to advance 
it, being hoisted in the hump of the camel. 

But though the young O’Connor had been accustomed to 
the saddle from childhood, and had ridden “ across country ” 
on many an occasion, it was not long before he became 
satisfied with the saddle of a maherry. The rocking, and 
jolting, and “ pitching,” as our adventurers termed it, ^om 

B 


66 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


larboard to starboard, fore and aft, and alow and aloft, soon 
caused Terence to sing out “ enough ” ; and he descended 
into the soft sand with a much greater desire for walking 
than the moment before he had had for riding. 

Harry Blount took his place, but although the young Eng- 
lishman had been equally accustomed to a hunting-saddle, 
he found that his experience went but a little way towards 
making him easy on the hump of a maherry ; and he was 
soon in the mood for dismounting. 

The son of Scotia next climbed upon the back of the 
camel. Whether it was that natural pride of prowess which 
ofl impels his countrymen to perseverance and daring deeds, 
— whether it was that, or whether it arose from a sterner 
power of endurance, — certain it is that Colin kept his seat 
longer than either of his predecessors. 

But even Scotch sinews could not hold out against such a 
tension, — such a bursting and wrenching and tossing, — and 
it ended by Colin declaring that upon the whole he would 
prefer making the journey upon “ Shank’s mare.” 

Saying this he slid down from the shoulders of the un- 
gainly animal, resigning the creature once more to the con- 
duct of Old Bill, who had still kept hold of the halter. 


CHAP TER XIX. 

HOMEVTARD BOUND. 

T he experience of his young companions might have 
deterred the sailor from imitating their example ; 
more especially as Bill, according to his own statement, had 
never been “abroad” a saddle in his life. But they did 
not; and for special reasons. Awkward as the old salt 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


G7 


might feel in a saddle, he felt not less awkward afoot. 
That is ashore,^ — on terra Jirma, 

Place him on the deck of a ship, or in the rigging of one, 
and no man in all England’s navy could have been more 
secure as to his footing, or more difficult to dispossess of it ; 
but set sailor Bill upon shore, and expect him to go ahead 
upon it, you would be disappointed : you might as well ex- 
pect a fish to make progress on land ; and you would witness 
a species of locomotion more resembling that of a manatee 
or a seal, than of a human biped. As the old man-o’-war’s- 
man had now being floundering full five weeks through the 
soft shore-sand, he was thoroughly convinced that a mode 
of progression must be preferable to that ; and as soon as 
the young Scotchman descended from his seat, he climbed 
into it 

He had not much climbing to do, — for the w'ell-trained 
maherry, when any one wished to mount him, at once 
knelt down, — making the ascent to his “ summits ” as easy 
as possible. 

Just as the sailor had got firmly into the saddle, the moon 
shone out with a brilliance that almost rivalled the light of 
day. In the midst of that desert landscape, against the 
ground of snow-white sand, the figures of both camel and 
rider were piquantly conspicuous ; and although the one was 
figuratively a ship, and the other really a sailor, their juxta- 
position offered a contrast of the queerest kind. So ludi- 
crous did it seem, that the three “mids,” disregarding all 
ideas of danger, broke forth with one accord into a strain of 
loud and continuous laughter. 

They had all seen camels, or pictures of these animals ; 
but never before either a camel, or the picture of one, with 
a sailor upon his hack. The very idea of a dromedary cai- 
ries along with it the cognate spectacle of an Arab on its 
\,ack, — a slim, sinewy individual of swarth complexion and 
picturesque garb, a bright burnouse steaming around his 


68 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


body, with a twisted turban on his head. But a tall camel, 
surmounted by a sailor in dreadnought jacket and sou’- 
wester, was a picture to make a Solon laugh, let alone a tier 
of midshipmen ; and it drew from the latter such a cachin- 
nation as caused the shores of the Saara to echo with sounds 
of joy, perhaps never heard there before. Old Bill was not 
angry, he was only gratified to see these young gentlemen 
in such good spirits ; and calling upon them to keep close 
after him, he gave the halter to his maherry and started off 
over the sand. 

For some time his companions kept pace with him, doing 
their best ; but it soon became apparent, even to the sailor 
himself, that unless something was done to restrain the im- 
petuosity of the camel, he must soon be separated from those 
following afoot. 

This something its rider felt himself incapable of accom- 
plishing. It is true he stUl held the halter in his hand, but 
this gave him but slight control over the camel. It was 
not a mameluke bitt — not even a snaflie — and for direct- 
ing the movements of the animal the old sailor felt himself 
as helpless as if standing by the wheel of a seventy-four 
that had unshipped her rudder. Just like a ship in such a 
situation did the maherry behave. Surging through the 
ocean of soft sand, now mounting the spurs that trended 
down to the beach, now descending headlong into deep 
gullies, like troughs between the ocean waves, and gliding 
silently, gently forward as a shallop upon a smooth sea. 
Such was the course that the sailor was pursuing. Very 
different, however, were his reflections to those he would 
have indulged in on board a man-o’-war ; and if any man 
ever sneered at that simile which likens a camel to a ship, it 
was Sailor Bill upon that occasion. 

“Avast there!” cried he, as soon as the maherry had 
fairly commenced moving. “ Shiver my old timbers ! what 
do yez mean, you brute ? Belay there I belay I ’Ang it, I 


THE DANCE INTERRUPTED. 


69 


must pipe all ^ands, an’ take in sail. Where the deevil are 
ye steerin’ to ? Be jabers, yez may laugh, young gentlemen, 
but this ain’t a fair weather craft, I tell yez. Thunder an’ 
ouns ! it be as much as I can do to keep her to her course. 
IIuUoo ! she ’s off afore the wind ! ” 

As the rider of the maherry gave out this declaration, 
the animal was seen suddenly to increase its speed, not only 
in a progressive ratio, but at once to double quick, as if im- 
pelled by some powerful motive. 

At the same time it was heard to utter a strange cry, 
half scream, half snort, which could not have been caused 
by any action on the part of its rider. 

It was already over a hundred yards in advance of those 
following on foot ; but after giving out that startling cry, 
the distance became quickly increased, and in a few seconds 
of time the three astonished “ mids ” saw only the shadow 
of a maherry, with a sailor upon its back, first dissolving 
into dim outline until it finally disappeared behind the sand 
dunes that abutted upon the beach. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE DANCE INTERRUPTED. 

L eaving the midshipmen to their mirth, which, how- 
ever, was not of very long duration, we must follow 
Sailor Bill and the runaway camel. 

In reality the maherry had made off with him, though for 
what reason the sailor could not divine. He only knew that 
it was going at the rate of nine or ten knots an hour, and 
going its own way ; for instead of keeping to the line of the 
coast, — the direction he would have wished it to take, — it 


70 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


had suddenly turned tail upon the sea, and headed towards 
the interior of the country. 

Its rider had already discovered that he had not the 
slightest control over it. He had tugged upon the hair 
halter and shouted “ Avast ! ” until both his arms and tongue 
were tired. All to no purpose. The camel scorned his 
commands, lent a deaf ear to his entreaties, and paid not the 
slightest heed to his attempt to pull up, except to push on 
in the opposite direction, with its snout elevated in the air 
and its long ungainly neck stretched forward in the most 
determined and provoking fashion. 

There was not much force in the muscular efforts made to 
check it. It was just as much as its rider could do to bal- 
ance himself on its hump, which, of course, he had to do 
Arab-fashion, sitting upon the saddle as on a chair, with his 
feet resting upon the back of the animal’s neck. It was 
this position that rendered his seat so insecure, but no other 
could have been adopted in the saddle of a maherry, and the 
sailor was compelled to keep it as well as he could. 

At the time the animal first started off, it had not gone at 
so rapid a pace but that he might have slipped down upon 
the soft sand without much danger of being injured. This 
for an instant he had thought of doing ; but knowing that 
while “ unhorsing ” himself the camel might escape, he had 
voluntarily remained on its back, in the hope of being able 
to pull the animal up. 

On becoming persuaded that tliis would be impossible, 
and that the maherry had actually made off with him, it 
was too late to dismount without danger. The camel was 
now shambling along so swiftly that he could not slip down 
without submitting himself to a fall. It would be no longer 
a tumble upon soft sand, for the runaway had suddenly 
swerved into a deep gorge, the bottom of which was thickly 
strewed with boulders of rock, and through these the 
maherry was making way with the speed of a fast-trotting 
horse. 


THE DANCE INTERRUPTED. 


71 


Had its rider attempted to abandon his high perch upon 
the hump, his chances would have been good for getting 
dashed against one of the big boulders, or trodden under the 
huge hoofs of the maherry itself. 

Fully alive to this danger. Old Bill no more thought of 
throwing himself to the ground ; but on the contrary, held 
on to the hump with all the tenacity that lay in his well- 
tarred digits. 

He had continued to shout for some time after parting 
with his companions ; but as this availed nothing, he at length 
desisted, and was now riding the rest of his race in silence. 

When was it to terminate ? Whither was the camel con- 
ducting him ? These were the questions that now came be- 
fore his mind. 

He thought of an answer, and it filled him with appre- 
hension. The animal was evidently in eager haste. It was 
snuffing the wind in its progress forward ; something ahead 
seemed to be attracting it. What could this something be 
but its home, the tent from which it had strayed, the dwell- 
ing of its owner ? And who could that owner be but one 
of those cruel denizens of the desert they had been taking 
such pains to avoid ? 

The sailor was allowed but little time for conjectures ; for 
almost on the instant of his shaping this, the very first one, 
the maherry shot suddenly round the hip of a hill, bringing 
him in full view of a spectacle that realized it. 

A small valley, or stretch of level ground enclosed by 
surrounding ridges, lay before him ; its gray, sandy surface 
interspersed by a few patches of darker color, which the 
moon, shining brightly from a blue sky, disclosed to be tufts 
of tussock-grass and mimosa bushes. 

These, however, did not occupy the attention of the invol- 
untary visitor to that secluded spot ; but something else that 
appeared in their midst, — something that proclaimed the 
presence of human beings. 


72 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Near the centre of the little valley half a dozen dark ob- 
jects stood up several feet above the level of the ground 
Their size, shape, and color proclaimed their character. 
They were tents, — the tents of a Bedouin encampment. 
The. old man-o’-war’s-man had never seen such before ; but 
there was no mistaking them for anything else, — even 
going as he was at a speed that prevented him from having 
a very clear view of them. 

In a few seconds, however, he was near enough to dis- 
tinguish something more than the tents. They stood in a 
sort of circle of about twenty yards in diameter, and within 
this could be seen the forms of men, women, and children. 
Around were animals of different sorts, — horses, camels, 
sheep, goats, and dogs, grouped according to their kind, with 
the exception of the dogs, which appeared to be straying 
everywhere. This varied tableau was distinctly visible un- 
der the light of a full, mellow moon. 

There were voices, — shouting and singing. There was 
music, made upon some rude instrument. The human 
forms, — both of men and women, — were in motion, cir- 
cling and springing about. The sailor saw they were danc- 
ing. 

He heard, and saw, all this in a score of seconds, as the 
maherry hurried him forward into their midst. The en- 
campment was close to the bottom of the hill round which 
the camel had carried him. He had at length made up his 
mind to dismount coute que coute ; but there was no time. 
Before he could make a movement to fling himself from the 
shoulders of the animal, he saw that ho was discovered. A 
cry coming from the tents admonished him of this fact. It 
was too late to attempt a retreat, and, in a state of despond- 
ing stupor, he stuck to the saddle. Not much longer. The 
camel, with a snorting scream, responding to the call of its 
fellows, rushed on into the encampment, — right into the 
very circle of the dancers ; and there amidst the shouts of 


A SERIO-COMICAL RECEPTION. 


7b 


men, the screeches of women, the yelling of children, the 
neighing of horses, the bleating of sheep and goats, and 
the barking of a score or two of cur dogs, — the animal 
stopped, with such abrupt suddenness that its rider, after 
performing a somersault through the air, came down on 
all-fours, in front of its projecting snout ! 

In such fashion was Sailor Bill introduced to the Arab 
encampment. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A SERIO-COMICAL RECEPTION. 

I T need scarce be said that the advent of the stranger 
produced some surprise among the Terpsichorean crowd, 
into the midst of which he had been so unceremoniously pro- 
jected. And yet this surprise was not such as might have 
been expected. One might suppose that an English man-o’- 
war’s-man in pilot-cloth, pea-jacket, glazed hat, and wide duck 
trousers, would have been a singular sight to the eyes of the 
dark-skinned individuals who now encircled them — dressed 
as all of them were in gay colored floating shawl-robes, 
slipped or sandalled feet, and with fez caps or turbans on 
their heads. 

Not a bit of a singular sight : neither the color of his skin, 
nor his sailor-costume, had caused surprise to those who sur- 
rounded him. Both were matters with which they were 
well acquainted — alas ! too well. k 

The astonishment they had exhibited arose simply from 
the sans fagons manner of his coming amongst them ; and on 
the instant after it disappeai-ed, giving place to a feeling of 
a different kind. 


4 


74 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Succeeding to tEe shouts of surprise, arose a simultaneous 
peal of laughter from men, women, and children ; in which 
even the animals seemed to join — more especially the ma- 
herry, who stood with its uncouth head craned over its dis- 
mounted rider, and looking uncontrollably comic ! 

In the midst of this universal exclamation the sailor rose 
to his feet. He might have been disconcerted by the recep- 
tion, had his senses been clear enough to comprehend what 
was passing. But they were not. The effects of that fear- 
ful somersault had confused him ; and he had only risen to 
an erect attitude, under a vague instinct or desire to escape 
from that company. 

After staggering some paces over the ground, his thoughts 
returned to him ; and he more clearly comprehended his 
situation. Escape was out of the question. He was prisoner 
to a party of wandering Bedouins, — the worst to be found 
in all the wide expanse of the Saaran desert, — the wreck- 
ers of the Atlantic coast. 

The sailor might have felt surprised at seeing a collection 
of familiar objects into the midst of which he had wandered. 
By the doorway of a tent, — one of the largest upon the 
ground, — there was a pile of 'paraphernalia^ every article 
of which was tropical, not of the Saara, but the sea. There 
were “ belongings ” of the cabin and caboose, — the 'tween 
decks, and the forecastle, — all equally proclaiming them- 
selves the debris of a castaway ship. 

The sailor could have no conjectures as to the vessel to 
which they had belonged. He knew the articles by sight, — 
one and all of them. They were the spoils of the corvette, 
that had been washed ashore, and fallen into the hands of 
the wreckers. 

Among them Old Bill saw some things that had apper- 
tained to himself. 

On the opposite side of the encampment, by another large 
tent, was a second pile of ship’s equipments, like the first 


A SERIO-COMIC AL RECEPTION. 


75 


guarded by a sentinel who squatted beside it: the sailor 
looked around in expectation to see some of the corvette’s 
crew. Some might have escaped like himself and his three 
companions by reaching the shore on cask, hoop, or spar. 
If so, they had not fallen into the hands of the wreckers ; 
or if they had, they were not in the camp — unless, indeed, 
they might be inside some of the tents. This was not likely. 
Most probably they had all been drowned, or had succumbed 
to a worse fate than drowning — death at the hands of the 
cruel coast robbers, who now surrounded the survivor. 

The circumstances under which the old sailor made these 
reflections were such as to render the last hypothesis suffi- 
ciently probable. He was being pushed about and dragged 
over the ground by two men, armed with long curved scim- 
itars, contesting some point with one another, apparently as 
to which should be first to cut off his head ! 

Both of these men appeared to be chiefs ; “ sheiks ” as 
the sailor heard them called by their followers, a party 
of whom — also with arms in their hands — stood behind 
each “sheik” — all seemingly alike eager to perform the 
act of decapitation. 

So near seemed the old sailor’s head to being cut off, that 
for some seconds he was not quite sure whether it still re- 
mained upon his shoulders! He could not understand a 
word that passed between the contending parties, though 
there was talk enough to have satisfied a sitting of parlia- 
ment, and probably with about the same quantity of sense 
in it. 

Before he had proceeded far, the sailor began to compre- 
hend, — not from the speeches made, but the gestures that 
accompanied them, — that it was not the design of either 
party to cut off his head. The drawn scimitars, sweeping 
through the air, were not aimed at liis neck, but rather in 
mutual menace of one another. 

Old Bill could see that there was some quarrel between 


76 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


the two sheiks, of which he was himself the cause ; that the 
camp was not a unity consisting of a single chief, his family, 
and following; but that there were too separate leaders, each 
with his adherents, perhaps temporarily associated together 
for purposes of plunder. 

That they had collected the wreck of the corvette, and 
divided the spoils between them, was evident from the two 
heaps being kept carefully apart, each piled up near the tent 
of a chief. 

The old man-o’-war’s-man made his observations in the 
midst of great difficulties: for while noting these particu- 
lars, he was pulled about the place, first by one sheik, then 
by the other, each retaining his disputed person in tempo- 
rary possession. 

From the manner in which they acted, he could tell that 
it was his person that was the subject of dispute, and that 
both wanted to be the proprietor of it. 


* CHAPTER XXII. 

THE TWO SHEIKS. 

T here was a remarkable difference between the two 
men thus claiming ownership in the body of Old Bill. 
One was a little wizen-faced individual, whose yellow com- 
plexion and sharp, angular features proclaimed him of the 
Arab stock, while his competitor showed a skin of alro.ost 
ebon blackness — a frame of herculean development — a 
broad face, with flat nose and thick lubberly lips — a head 
of enormous circumference, surmounted by a mop of woolly 
hair, standing erect several inches above his occiput. 

Had the sailor been addicted to ethnological speculations, 


THE TWO SHEIKS. 


77 


he might have derived an interesting lesson from that con- 
test, of which he was the cause. It might have helped him 
to a knowledge of the geography of the country in which 
he had been cast, for he was now upon that neutral terri- 
tory where the true Ethiopian — the son of Ham — occa- 
sionally contests possession, both of the soil and the slave, 
with the wandering children of Japhet. 

The two men who were thus quarrelling about the pos- 
session of the English tar, though both of African origin, 
could scarce have been more unlike had their native coun- 
try been the antipodes of each other. 

Their object was not so different, though even in this 
there was a certain dissimilation. Both designed making 
the shipwrecked sailor a slave. But the sheik of Arab as- 
pects wished to possess him, with a view to his ultimate 
ransom. He knew that by carrying him northwards there 
would be a chance to dispose of him at a good price, either 
to the Jew merchants at Wedinoin, or the European con- 
suls at Mogador. It would not be the first Saarian casta- 
way he had in this manner restored to his friends and his 
country — not from any motives of humanity, but simply 
for the profit it produced. ^ 

On the other hand, the black competitor had a different, 
though somewhat similar, purpose in view. His thoughts 
extended towards the south. There lay the emporium of 
his commerce, — the great mud-built town of Timbuctoo. 
Little as a white man was esteemed among the Arab mer- 
chants when considered as a mere slave, the sable sheik 
knew that in the south of the Saara he would command a 
price, if only as a curiosity to figure among the followers of 
the sultan of some grand interior city. For this reason, 
therefore, was the black determined upon the possession of 
Bill, and showed as much eagerness to become his owner as 
did his tawny competitor. 

After several minutes spent in words and gestures of mu- 


78 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


tual menace, which, from the wild shouts and flourishing of 
scimitars, seemed as if it could only end in a general lop- 
ping off of heads, somewhat to the astonishment of the. 
sailor, tranquillity became restored without any one receiv- 
ing scratch or cut. 

The scimitars were returned to their scabbards ; and 
although the affair did not appear to be decided, the contest 
was now carried on in a more pacific fashion by words. A 
long argument ensued, in which both sheiks displayed their 
oratorial powers. Though the sailor could not understand 
a word of what was said, he could tell that the little Arab 
was urging his ownership, on the plea that the camel which 
had carried the captive into the encampment was his prop- 
erty, and on this account was he entitled to the “ waif.” 

The black seemed altogether to dissent from this doctrine ; 
on his side pointing to the two heaps of plunder ; as much as 
to say that his share of the spoils — already obtained — was 
the smaller one. 

At this crisis a third party stepped between the two dis- 
putants — a young fellow, who appeared to have some 
authority with both. His behavior told Bill that he was act- 
ing as mediator. Whatever was the proposal made by him, 
it appeared to satisfy both parties, as both at once desisted 
from their wordy warfare — at the same time that they 
seemed preparing to settle the dispute in some other way. 

The mode was soon made apparent. A spot of smooth, 
even sand was selected by the side of the encampment, to 
which the two sheiks, followed by their respective parties, 
repaired. 

A square figure was traced out, inside of which several 
rows of little round holes were scooped in the sand, and then 
the rival sheiks sat down, one on each side of the figure. 
Each had already provided himself with a number of pellets 
of camels’ dung, which were now placed in the holes, and 
the play of “ helga ” was now commenced. 


THE TWO SHIEKS. 


79 


Whoever won the game was to become possessed of the 
single stake, which was neither more nor less than Sailor 
Bill. 

The game proceeded by the shifting of the dung pellets 
in a particular fashion, from hole to hole, somewhat similar 
to the moving of draughts upon the squares of a checker- 
board. 

During the play not a word was spoken by either party, 
the two sheiks squatting opposite each other, and making 
their moves with as much gravity as a pair of chess-players 
engaged in some grand tournament of this intellectual 
game. 

It was only when the affair ended, that the noise broke 
forth again, which it did in loud, triumphant shouts from 
the conquering party, with expressions of chagrin on the 
side of the conquered. 

By interpreting these shouts. Bill could tell that he had 
fallen to the black ; and this was soon after placed beyond 
doubt by the latter coming up and taking possession of him. 

It appeared, however, that there had been certain sub- 
siding conditions to the play, and that the sailor had been 
in some way or another staked against his own clothes ; for 
before being fully appropriated by his owner he was stripped 
to his shirt, and his habiliments, shoes and sou’-wester in- 
cluded, were handed over to the sheik who had played 
second-best in the game of “ helga.” 

In this forlorn condition was the old sailor conducted to 
the tent of his sable master, and placed like an additional 
piece upon the pile of plunder already apportioned I 


80 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


SAILOR BILL BESHREWED. 


AILOR BILL said not a word. He had no voice in 



the disposal of the stakes, — which were himself and 
his “ toggery,” — and, knowing this, he remained silent. 

He was not allowed to remain undisturbed. During the 
progress of the game, he had become the cynosure of a large 
circle of eyes, — belonging to the women and children of 
the united tribes. 

He might have looked for some compassion, — at least, 
from the female portion of those who formed his entourage. 
Half famished with hunger, — a fact which he did not fail 
to communicate by signs, — he might have expected them 
to relieve his wants. The circumstance of his making them 
known might argue, that he did expect some sort of kind 
treatment. 

It was not much, however. His hopes were but slight, 
and sprang rather from a knowledge of his own necessities, 
and of what the women ought to have done, than what they 
were likely to do. Old Bill had heard too much of the 
character of these hags of the Saara, — and their mode of 
conducting themselves towards any unfortunate castaway 
‘who might be drifted among them, — to expect any great 
hospitality at their hands. 

His hopes, therefore, were moderate; but, for all that, 
they were doomed to disappointment. 

Perhaps in no other part of the world is the “ milk of hu- 
man kindness ” so completely wanting in the female breast, 
as among the women of the wandering Arabs of Africa. 
Slaves to their imperious lords, — even when enjoying the 
sacred title of wife, — they are themselves treated worse 
^an the arimals which they have to manage and tend, — • 


SAILOR BILL BESHREWED. 


81 


«ven worse at times than their own bond-slaves, with whom 
they mingle almost on an equality. As in all like cases, this 
harsh usage, instead of producing sympathy for others who 
suffer, has the very opposite tendency; as if they found 
some alleviation of their cruel lot in imitating the brutality 
of their oppressors. 

Instead of receiving kindness, the old sailor became the 
recipient of insults, not only from their tongues, — which he 
could not understand, — but by acts and gestures which were 
perfectly comprehensible to him. 

While his ears were dinned by virulent speeches, — which, 
could he have comprehended them, would have told him how 
much he was despised for being an infidel, and not a follow- 
er of the true prophet, — while his eyes were well-nigh put 
out by dust thrown in his face, — accompanied by spiteful 
expectorations, — his body was belabored by sticks, his skin 
scratched and pricked with sharp thorns, his whiskers lugged 
almost to the dislocation of his jaws, and the hair of his 
head uprooted in fistfuls from his pericranium. 

All this, too, amid screams and fiendish laughter, that re- 
sembled an orgie of furies. 

These women — she-devils they better deserved to bo 
called — were simply following out the teachings of their 
inhuman faith, — among religions, even that of Rome not 
excepted, the most inhuman that has ever cursed mankind. 
Had old Bill been a believer in their “ Prophet,” that false 
seer of the blood-stained sword, their treatment of him 
would have been directly the reverse. Instead of kicks and 
cuffs, bustlings and scratchings, he would have been made 
welcome to a share in such hospitality as they could have 
bestowed upon him. It was religion, not nature, made them 
act as they did. Their hardness of heart came not from 
God, but the Prophet. They were only carrying out the 
edicts of their “ priests of a bloody faith.” 

In vain did the old man-o’-war’s-man cry out “belay” 

4 * F 


82 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


and “ avast.” In v^ain did he “ shiver his timbers,” and ap- 
peal against their scurvy treatment, by looks, words, and 
gesture. 

These seemed only to augment the mirth and spitefulness 
of his tormentors. 

In this scene of cruelty there was one woman conspicuous 
among the rest. By her companions she was called Fatima. 
The old sailor, ignorant of Arabic feminine names, thought 
“ it a misnomer,” for of all his she-persecutors she was the 
leanest and scraggiest. Notwithstanding the poetical no- 
tions which the readers of Oriental romance might associate 
with her name, there was not much poetry about the per- 
sonage who so assiduously assaulted Sailor Bill, — pulling 
his whiskers, slapping his cheeks, and every now and then 
spitting in his face ! 

She was something more than middle-aged, short, squat, 
and meagre ; with the eye-teeth projecting on both sides, so 
as to hold up the upper lip, and exhibit all the others in 
their ivory whiteness, with an expression resembling that of 
the hyena. This is considered beauty, — a fashion in full 
vogue among her countrywomen, who cultivate it with great 
care, — though to the eyes of the old sailor it rendered the 
hag all the more hideous. 

But the skinning of eye-teeth was not the only attempt 
at ornament made by this belle of the Desert. Strings 
of black beads hung over her wrinkled bosom ; circlets of 
white bone were set in her hair; armlets and bangles 
adorned her wrists and ankles, and altogether did her cos- 
tume and behavior betoken one distinguished among the 
crowd of his persecutors, — in short, their sultana or queen. 

And such did she prove ; for on the black sheik appro- 
priating tlie old sailor as a stake fairly won in the game, and 
rescuing his newly-acquired property from the danger of be- 
ing damaged, Fatima followed him to his tent with such dem- 
onstrations as showed her to be, if not the “ favorite, ” cer- 
tainly tlje head of the harem. 


STARTING ON THE TRACK. 


83 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


STARTING ON THE TRACK. 


S already said, the mirth of the three midshipmen 



JTIl. was brought to a quick termination. It ended on the 
instant of Sailor Bill’s disappearance behind the spur of the 
sand-hills. At the same instant all three came to a stop, 
and stood regarding one another with looks of uneasiness 
and apprehension. 

All agreed that the maherry had made away with the 
old man-o’-war’s-man. There could be no doubt about it. 
Bill’s shouts, as he was hurried out of their hearing, proved 
that he was doing his best to bring to, and that the “ ship 
of the desert ” would not yield obedience to her helm. 

They wondered a little why he had not slipped off, and 
let the animal go. They could not see why he should fear 
to drop down in the soft sand. He might have had a tum- 
ble, but nothing to do him any serious injury, — nothing to 
break a bone, or dislocate a joint. They supposed he had 
stuck to the saddle, from not wishing to abandon the ma- 
herry, and in hope of soon bringing it to a halt. 

This was just what he had done, for the first three or 
four hundred yards. After that he would only have been 
too well satisfied to separate from the camel, and let it go 
its way. But then he was among the rough, jaggy rocks 
through which the path led, and then dismounting was no 
longer to be thought of, without also thinking of danger, 
considering that the camel was nearly ten feet in height, 
and going at a pitching pace of ten miles to the hour. . To 
have forsaken his saddle at that moment would have been 
to risk the breaking of his neck. 

From where they stood looking after him, the mids could 
not make out the character of the ground. Under the light 


84 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


of the moon, the surface seemed all of a piece, — all a bed 
of smooth soft sand ! For this reason were they perplexed 
by his behavior. 

There was that in the incident to make them apprehensive. 
The maherry would not have gone off at such a gait, with- 
out some powerful motive to impel it. Up to that moment it 
had shown no particular for rapid travelling, but had 

been going, under their guidance, with a steady, sober docil- 
ity. Something mnst have attracted it towards the interior. 
What could that something be, if not the knowledge that its 
home, or its companions, were to be found in this direc- 
tion ? 

This was the conjecture that came simultaneously into the 
minds of all three, — as is known, the correct one. 

There could be no doubt that their companion had been 
carried towards an encampment ; for no other kind of settle- 
ment could be thought of in such a place. It was even a 
wonder that this could exist in the midst of a dreary, wild 
expanse of pure sand, like that surrounding them. Perhaps, 
thought they, there may be “ land ” towards the interior of 
the country, — a spot of firm soil, with vegetation upon it ; 
in short, an oasis. 

After their first surprise had partially subsided, they took 
counsel as to their course. Should they stay where they 
were, and wait for Bill’s return ? Or should they follow, iu 
the hope of overtaking him ? 

Perhaps he might not return. If carried into a camp of 
barbarous savages, it was not likely that he would. He 
would be seized and held captive to a dead certainty. But 
surely he would not be such a simpleton, as to allow the ma- 
herry to transport him into the midst of his enemies. 

Again sprang up their surprise at his not having made an 
efibrt to dismount. 

For some ten or fifteen minutes the midshipmen stood 
hesitating, — their eyes all the while bent on the moonlit 


STARTING ON THE TRACK. 


85 


opening, through which the maherry had disappeared. There 
were no signs of anything in the pass, — at least anything 
like either a camel or a sailor. Only the bright beams of 
the moon glittering upon crystals of purest sand. 

They thought they heard sounds, — the cries of quadru- 
peds mingling with the voices of men. There were voices, 
too, of shriller intonation, that might have proceeded from 
the throats of women. 

Colin was confident he heard such. He was not contra- 
dicted by his companions, who simply said, they could not 
be sure that they heard anything. 

But for the constant roar of the breakers, — rolling up 
almost to the spot upon which they stood, — they would 
have declared themselves differently ; ftr at that moment 
there was a chorus being carried on at no great distance, in 
a variety of most unmusical sounds, — comprising the bark 
of the dog, the neigh of the horse, tne snorting scream of 
the dromedary, the bleat of the sheep, and the sharper cry 
of its near kindred the goat, — along with the equally wild 
and scarce more articulate utterances of savage men, women, 
and children. 

Colin was convinced that he heard all these sounds, and 
declared that they could only proceed from some encamp- 
ment. His companions, knowing that the young Scotchman 
was sharp-eared, made no attempt to question his belief ; but, 
on the contrary, gave ready credence to it. 

Under any circumstances it seemed of no use to remain 
where they were. If Bill did not return, they were bound 
in honor to go after him ; and, if possible, find out what had 
become of him. If, on the other hand, he should be coming 
back, they must meet him somewhere in the pass, — through 
which the camel had carried him off, — since there was no 
other by which he might conveniently get back to them. 

This point determined, the three mids, setting their faces 
for the interior of the country, started off towards the break 
between the sand-hills. 


86 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER XXV 


BILL TO BE ABANDONED. 


HEY proceeded with caution, — Colin even more than 



X his companions. The young Englishman was not so 
distrustful of the “ natives,” whoever they might be, as the 
son of Scotia ; and as for O’Connor, he still persisted in the 
belief that there would be little, if any, danger in meeting 
with men, and, in his arguments, still continued to urge seek- 
ing such an encounter as the best course they could pursue. 

“ Besides,” said Terence, “ Coly says he hears the voices 
of women and children. Sure no human creature that’s 
got a woman and child in his company would be such a 
cruel brute as you make out this desert Ethiopian to be ? 
Sailors’ stories, to gratify the melodramatic ears of Moll and 
Poll and Sue ! Bah ! if there be an encampment, let ’s go 
straight into it, and demand hospitality of them. Sure they 
must be Arabs; and sure you’ve heard enough of Arab 
hospitality ? ” 

“ More than ’s true, Terry,” rejoined the young English- 
man. “ More than ’s true, I fear.” 

“ You may well say that,” said Colin, confirmingly. “ From 
what I ’ve heard and read, — ay, and from something I ’ve 
seen while up the Mediterranean, — a more beggarly hospi- 
tality than that called Arab don’t exist on the face of the 
earth. It ’s all well enough, so long as you are one of them- 
selves, and, like them, a believer in their pretended prophet. 
Beyond that, an Arab has got no more hospitality than a 
hyena. You ’re both fond of talking about skin-flint Scotch- 
men.” 

“ True,” interrupted Terence, who, even in that serious 
situation, could not resist such a fine opportunity for dis- 
playing his Irish humor. “ I never think of a Scotcliman 


BILL TO BE ABANDONED. 


87 


without thinking of his skin. ‘ God bless the gude Duke 
of Argyle ! * ” 

“ Shame, Terence ! ” interrupted Harry Blount ; “ our 
situation is too serious for jesting.” 

“ He — all of us — may find it so before long,” continued 
Colin, preserving his temper unruffled. “If that yelling 
crowd — that I can now hear plainer than ever — should 
come upon us, we ’U have something else to think of than 
jokes about ‘ gude Duke o* Argyle.* Hush ! Do you hear 
that ? Does it convince you that men and women are near ? 
There are scores of both kinds.’* 

Colin had come to a stop, the others imitating his exam- 
ple. They were now more distant from the breakers, — 
whose roar was somewhat deadened by the intervention of a 
sand-spur. In consequence, the other sounds were heard 
more distinctly. They could no longer be mistaken, — even 
by the incredulous O’Connor. ^ 

There were voices of men, women, and children, — cries 
and calls of quadrupeds, — each according to its own kind, 
all mingled together in what might have been taken for 
some nocturnal saturnalia of the Desert. 

The crisis was that in which Sailor Bill had become a 
subject of dispute between the two sheiks, — in which not 
only their respective followers of the biped kind appeared 
to take part, but also every quadruped in the camp, — dogs 
and dromedaries, horses, goats, and sheep, — as if each had 
an interest in the ownership of the old man-o*-war’s-man. 

The grotesque chorus was succeeded by an interval of 
silence, uninterrupted and profound. This was while the 
two sheiks were playing their game of “ helga,” — the 
“chequers” of the Saara, with Sailor Bill as their stake. 

During this tranquil interlude, the three midshipmen had 
advanced through the rock-strewn ravine, had crept cau- 
tiously inside the ridges that encircled the camp, and con- 
cealed by the sparse bushes of mimosa, and favored by the 


88 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


light of a full moon, had approached near enough to take 
note of what was passing among the tents. 

What they saw there, and then, was confirmatory of the 
theory of the young Scotchman ; and convinced not only 
Harry Blount, but Terence O’Connor, that the stories of 
Arab hospitality were not only untrue, but diametrically 
opposed to the truth. 

There was old Bill before their faces, stripped to the 
shirt, — to the “buff,” — surrounded by a circle of short, 
squat women, dark-skinned, with black hair, and eyes spar- 
kling in the moonlight, who were torturing him with tongue 
and touch, — who pinched and spat upon him, — who looked 
altogether like a band of infernal Furies collected around 
some innocent victim that had fallen among them, and giv- 
ing full play to their fiendish instincts ! 

Although they were witnesses to the subsequent rescue 
of Bill by the black sheik, — and the momentary release of 
the old sailor from his tormentors, — it did not increase 
their confidence in the crew who occupied the encampment. 

From the way in which the old salt appeared to be 
treated, they could tell that he was regarded by the hosts 
into whose hands he had fallen, not as a guest, but simply 
as a “piece of goods,” — just like any other waif of the 
wreck that had been washed on that inhospitable shore. 

In whispers the three mids made known their thoughts to 
one another. Harry Blount no longer doubted the truth of 
Colin’s statements ; and O’Connor had become equally con- 
verted from his incredulity. The conduct of the women to- 
wards the unfortunate castaway — which all three witnessed 
— told like the tongue of a trumpet. It was cruel beyond 
question. What, when exercised, must be that of their 
men ? 

To think of leaving their old comrade in such keeping 
was not a pleasant reflection. It was like their abandon- 
ing him upon the sand-spit, — to the threatening engulf- 


A CAUTIOUS RETREAT. 


89 


ment of the tide. Even worse : for the angry breakers 
seemed less spiteful than the hags who surrounded him in 
the Arab camp. 

Still, what could the boys do? Three midshipmen, — 
armed only with their tiny dirks, — what chance would they 
have among so many ? There were scores of these sinewy 
sons of the Desert, — without counting the shrewish women, 
— each armed with gun and scimitar, any one of whom 
ought to have been more than a match for a “mid.” It 
would have been sheer folly to have attempted a rescue. 
Despair only could have sanctioned such a course. 

In a whispered consultation it was determined otherwise. 
The old sailor must be abandoned to his fate, just as he had 
been left upon the sand-spit. His youthful companions 
could only breathe a prayer in his behalf, and express a 
hope that, as upon the latter occasion, some providential 
chance should turn up in his favor, and he might again be 
permitted to rejoin them. 

After communicating this hope to one another, all three 
turned their faces shoreward, determined to put as much 
space between themselves and the Arab encampment as 
night and circumstances would permit. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A CAUTIOUS RETREAT. 

T he ravine, up which the maherry had carried the old 
man-o’-war’s-man, ran perpendicularly to the trending 
of the seashore, and almost in a direct line from the beach 
to the valley, in which was the Arab encampment. It could 
not, however, be said to debouch into this valley. Across 


90 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


its moutli the sand-drift had formed a barrier, like a huge 
“ snow-wreath,” uniting the two parallel ridges that formed 
the sides of the ravine itself. This “mouth-piece” was 
not so high as either of the flanking ridges ; though it was 
nearly a hundred feet above the level of the beach on one 
side, and the valley on the other. Its crest, viewed m pro- 
file, exhibited a saddle-shaped curve, the concavity turned 
upward. 

Through the centre of this saddle of sand, and trans- 
versely, the camel had carried Bill ; and over the same 
track the three midshipmen had gone in search of him. 

They had seen the Arab tents from the summit of the 
“ pass ” ; and had it been daylight, need have gone no nearer 
to note what was being there done. Even by the moon- 
light, they had been able to make out the forms of the 
horses, camels, men, and women ; but not with sufficient 
distinctness to satisfy them as to what was going on. 

For this reason had they descended into the valley, — 
creeping cautiously down the slope of the sand-wreath, and 
with equal caution advancing from boulder to bush, and bush 
to boulder. 

On taking the back track to regain the beach, they still 
observed caution, — though perhaps not to such a degree as 
when approaching the camp. Their desire to put space 
between themselves and the barbarous denizens of the Des- 
ert, — of whose barbarity they had now obtained both ocular 
and auricular proof, — had very naturally deprived them of 
that prudent coolness which the occasion required. For all 
that, they did not retreat with reckless rashness; and all 
three arrived at the bottom of the sloping sand-ridge, with- 
out having any reason to think they had been observed. 

But the most perilous point was yet to be passed. 
Against the face of the acclivity, there was not much danger 
of their being seen. The moon was shining on the other 
side. That which they had to ascend was in shadow,—* 


A CAUTIOUS RETREAT. 


91 


dark enough to obscure the outlines of their bodies to an eye 
looking in that direction, from such a distance as the camp. 
It was not while toiling up the slope that they dreaded de- 
tection, but at the moment when they must cross the saddle-^ 
shaped summit of the pass. Then, the moon being low down 
in the sky, directly in front of their faces, while the camp, 
still lower, was right behind their backs, it was not difficult 
to tell that their bodies would be exactly aligned between 
the luminary of' night and the sparkling eyes of the Arabs, 
and that their figures would be exhibited in conspicuous 
outline. 

It had been much the same way on their entrance to the 
oasis ; but then they were not so well posted up in the peril 
of their position. They now wondered at their not having 
been observed while advancing; but that could be ration- 
ally accounted for, on the supposition that the Bedouins 
nad been, at the time, too busy over old Bill to take heed 
of anything beyond the limits of their encampment 

It was different now. There was quiet in the camp, 
though both male and female figures could be seen stir- 
ring among the tents. The saturnalia that succeeded the 
castaway had come to a close. A comparative peacefulness 
reigned throughout the valley ; but in this very tranquillity 
lay the danger which our adventurers dreaded. 

With nothing else to attract their attention, the occupants 
of the encampments would be turning their eyes in every 
direction. If any of them should look westward at a given 
moment, — that is, while the three mids should be “ in the 
saddle,” — the latter could not fail to be discovered. 

What was to be done ? There was no other way leading 
forth from the valley. It was on all sides encircled by steep 
ridges of sand, — not so steep as to hinder them from being 
scaled ; but on every side, except that on which they had 
entered, and by which they were about to make their exit, 
the moon was shining in resplendent brilliance. A cat could 


92 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


not have crawled up anywhere, without being seen from the 
tents, — even had she been of the hue of the sand itself. 

A harried consultation, held between the trio of adven- 
turers, convinced them that there was nothing to be gained 
by turning back, — nothing by going to the right or the left. 
There was no other way — no help for it — but to scale the 
ridge in front, and “ cut ” as quickly as possible across the 
hollow of the “ saddle.” 

There was one other way ; or at least a deviation from 
the course which had thus recommended itself. It was to 
wait for the going down of the moon, before they should 
attempt the crossing.” This prudent project originated 
in the brain of the young Scotchman ; and it might have 
been well if his companions had adopted the idea. But 
they would not. What they had seen of Saaran civilization 
had inspired them with a keen disgust for it ; and they were 
only too eager to escape from its proximity. The punish- 
ment inflicted upon poor Bill had made a painful impression 
upon them ; and they had no desire to become the victinis 
of a similar chastisement. 

Colin did not urge his counsels. He had been as much 
impressed by what he had seen as his companions, and was 
quite as desirous as they to give the Bedouins a “ wide berth.” 
Withdrawing his opposition, therefore, he acceded to the 
original design ; and, without further ado, all three com- 
menced crawling up the slope. 


A QUEER QUADRUPED. 


93 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A QUEER QUADRUPED. 

H alf way up, they halted, though not to take breath. 

Strong-limbed, long-winded lads like them — who 
could have “ swarmed ” in two minutes to the main truck of 
a man-o’-war — needed no such indulgence aS that. In- 
stead of one hundred feet of sloping sand, any one of them 
could have scaled Snowdon without stopping to look back. 

Their halt had been made from a different motive. It 
was sudden and simultaneous, — all three having stopped at 
the same time, and without any previous interchange of speech. 
The same cause had brought them to that abrupt cessation 
in their climbing ; and as they stood side by side, aligned 
upon one another, the eyes of all three were turned on the 
same object. 

It was an animal, — a quadruped. It could not be any- 
thing else if belonging to a sublunary world ; and to this it 
appeared to belong. A strange creature notwithstanding ; 
and one which none of the three remembered to have met 
before. The remembrance of something like it flitted across 
their brains, seen upon the shelves of a museum ; but not 
enough of resemblance to give a clue for its identification. 

The quadruped in question was not bigger than a “ San 
Bernard,” a “ Newfoundland,” or a mastiff : but seen as it 
was, it loomed larger than any of the three. Like these 
creatures, it was canine in shape — lupine we should rather 
say — but of an exceedingly grotesque and ungainly figure. 
A hu^e square head seemed set without neck upon its 
shoulders ; while its fore limbs — out of all proportion 
longer than the hind ones — gave to the spinal column a 
sharp downward slant towards the tail. The latter append- 
age, short and “bunchy,” ended abruptly, as if either cut 


94 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


or “ driven in,” — adding to the uncouth appearance of the 
animal. A stiff hedge of hard bristles upon the back con- 
tinued its chevaux de /rise along the short, thick neck, till it 
ended between two erect tufted ears. Such was the shape 
of the beast that had suddenly presented itself to the eyes of 
our adventurers. 

They had a good opportunity of observing its outlines. It 
was on the ridge towards the crest of which they were ad- 
vancing. The moon was shining beyond. Every turn of 
its head or body — every motion made by its limbs — was 
conspicuously revealed against the luminous background of 
the sky. 

It was neither standing, nor at rest in any way. Head, 
limbs, and body were all in motion, — constantly changing, 
not only their relative attitudes to one another, but their 
absolute situation in regard to surrounding objects. 

And yet the change was anything but arbitrary. Tho 
relative movements made by the members of the animal’s 
body, as well as the absolute alterations of position, were 
all in obedience to strictly natural laws, — all repetitions of 
the same manoeuvre, worked with a monotony that seemed 
mechanical. 

The creature was pacing to and fro, like a well-trained 
sentry, — its “round” being the curved crest of the sand- 
ridge, from which it did not deviate to the licence of an 
inch. Backward and forward did it traverse the saddle in 
a longitudinal direction, — now poised upon the pommel, — 
now sinking downward into the seat, and then rising to the 
level of the coup, — now turning in the opposite direction, 
and uetracing in long, uncouth strides, the path over which 
it appeared to have been passing since the earliest hour of 
its existence ! 

Independent of the surprise which the presence of this 
animal had created, there was something in its aspect calcu 
lated to cause terror. Perhaps, had the mids known what 


GOLAH FULFILS HIS Di:STINY. 




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A QUEER QUADRUPED. 


9r 


kind of creature it was, or been in any way apprized of ita 
real character, they would have paid less regard to its pres- 
ence. Certainly not so much as they did : for, instead of 
advancing upon it, and making their way over the crest of 
the ridge, they stopped in their track, and held a whispered 
consultation as to what they should do. 

It is not to be denied that the barrier before them present- 
ed a formidable appearance. A brute, it appeared as big as 
a bull — for magnified by the moonlight, and perhaps a little 
by the fears of those who looked upon it, the quadruped was 
quite quadrupled in size. Disputing their passage too ; for 
its movements made it manifest that such was its design. 
Backwards and forwards, up and down that curving crest, 
did it glide, with a nervous quickness, that hindered any 
hope of being able to rush past it — either before or behind 
— its own crest all the while erected, like that of the dragon 
subdued by St. George. 

With all his English " pluck ” — even stimulated by this 
resemblance to the national knight — Harry Blount felt shy 
to approach that creature that challenged the passage of 
himself and his companions. 

Had there been no danger en arriere, perhaps our adven- 
turers would have turned back into the valley, and left the 
ugly quadruped master of the pass» 

As it was, a different resolve was arrived at — necessity 
being the dictator. 

The three midshipmen, drawing their dirks, advanced in 
line of battle up the slope. The Devil himself could scarce 
withstand such an assault. England, Scotland, Ireland, 
abreast — tres juncti in uno — united in thought, aim, and 
action — was there aught upon earth — biped, quadruped, 
or mille-pied — that must not yield to the charge ? 

If there was, it was not that animal oscillating along the 
saddle of sand, progressing from pDmmel to cantle, like the 
pendulum of a clock. 


96 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Whether natural or supernatural, long before our adv^en- 
turers got near enough to decide, the creature, to use a 
phrase of very modern mention, “ skedaddled,” leaving them 
free — so far as it was concerned — to continue their retreat 
unmolested. 

It did not depart, however, until after delivering a salute, 
that left our adventurers in greater doubt than ever of its 
true character. They had been debating among themselves 
whether it was a thing of the earth, of time, or something 
that belonged to eternity. They had seen it under a fair 
light, and could not decide. But now that they had heard 
it, — had listened to a strain of loud cachinnation, — scarce 
mocking the laughter of the maniac, — there was no escap- 
ing from the conclusion that what they had seen was either 
Satan himself, or one of his Ethiopian satellites ! 


CHAPTER XXVIIT. 


THE HUE AND CRT. 


S the strange creature that had threatened to dispute 



.jLjL their passage was no longer in sight, and seemed, 
moreover, to have gone clear away, the three mids ceased to 
think any more of it, — their minds being given to making 
their way over the ridge without being seen by the occu- 
pants of the encampment. 

Having returned their dirks to the sheath, they continued 
to advance towards the crest of the transverse sand-spar, as 
cautiously as at starting. 

It is possible they might have suceeeded in crossing, with- 
out being perceived, but for a circumstance of which they 
had taken too little heed. Only too well pleased at seeing 


THE HUE AND CRY. 


97 


the strange quadruped make its retreat, they had been less 
affected by its parting salutation, — weird and wild as this 
had sounded in their ears. But they had not thought of the 
effects which the same salute had produced upon the people 
of the Arab camp, causing all of them, as it did, to turn 
their eyes in the direction whence it was heard. To them 
there was no mystery in that screaming cachinnation. Un- 
earthly as it had echoed in the ears of the three mids, it fell 
with a perfectly natural tone on those of the Arabs : for it 
was but one of the well-known voices of their desert home, 
recognized by them as the cry of the laughing hyena. 

The effect produced upon the encampment was twofold. 
The children straying outside the tents, — like young chicks 
frightened by the swooping of a hawk, — ran inward ; while 
their mothers, after the manner of so many old hens, rushed 
forth to take them under their protection. The proximity 
of a hungry hyena, — more especially one of the laughing 
species, — was a circumstance to cause alarm. All the 
fierce creature required was a chance to close his strong, 
vice-like jaws upon the limbs of one of those juvenile Ish- 
maelites, and that would be the last his mother should ever 
see of him. 

Knowing this, the screech of the hyena had produced a 
momentary commotion among the women and children of 
the' encampment. Neither had the men listened to it un- 
moved. In hopes of procuring its skin for house or tent 
furniture, and its fiesh for food, — for these hungry wander- 
ers will eat anything, — several had seized hold of their 
long guns, and rushed forth from among the tents. 

The sound had guided them as to the direction in whiclf 
they should go ; and as they ran forward, they saw, not a 
hyena, but three human beings just mounting upon the sum- 
mit of the sand-ridge, under the full light of the moon. So 
conspicuously did the latter appear upon the smooth crest 
of the wreath, that there was no longer any chance of con- 
5 o 


98 


THE BOY" slaves; 


cealment. Their dark blue dresses, the yellow buttons on 
their jackets, and the bands around their caps, were all dis- 
cernible. It was the costume of the sea, not of the Saara. 
The Arab wreckera knew it at a glance ; and, without wait- 
ing to give a second, every man of the camp sallied off in 
pursuit, — each, as he started, giving utterance to an ejacu- 
lation of surprise or pleasure. 

Some hurried forward afoot, just as they had been going 
out to hunt the hyena ; others climbed upon their swift cam- 
els ; while a few, who owned horses, thinking they might do 
better with them, quickly caparisoned them, and came gal- 
loping on after tlie rest ; all three sorts of pursuers, — foot- 
men, horsemen, and maherrymen, — seemingly as intent 
upon a contest of screaming, as upon a trial of speed ! 

It is needless to say that the three midshipmen were, by 
this time, fully apprised of the “ hue and cry ” raised after 
them. It reached their ears just as they arrived upon the 
summit of the sand-ridge ; and any doubt they might have 
had as to its meaning, was at once determined, when they 
saw the Arabs brandishing their arms, and rushing out like 
so many madmen from among the tents. 

They stayed to see no more. To keep their ground could 
only end in their being captured and carried prisoners to the 
encampment; and after the spectacle they had just wit- 
nessed, in which the old>man-o’-war’s-man had played such 
a melancholy part, any fate appeared preferable to that. 

With some such fear all three were affected ; and simul- 
taneously yielding to it, they turned their backs upon the 
pursuit, and rushed headlong down the ravine, up which they 
had so imprudently ascended. 


A SUBAQUEOUS ASYLUM. 


99 


CHAPTER XXIX 


A SUBAQUEOUS ASYLUM. 


S the gorge was of no great length, and the downward 



r\ incline in their favor, they were not long in getting to 
its lower end, and out to the level plain that formed the sea- 


beach. 


In their hurried traverse thither, it had not occurred to 
them to inquire for what purpose they were running towards 
the sea? There could be no chance of their escaping in 
that direction ; nor did there appear to be much in any other, 
afoot as they were, and pursued by mounted men. The 
night was too clear to offer any opportunity of hiding them- 
selves, especially in a country where there was» neither 
“ brake, brush, nor scaur ” to conceal them. Go which way 
they would, or crouch wherever they might, they would be al- 
most certain of being discovered by their lynx-eyed enemies. 

There was but one way in which they might have stood a 
chance of getting clear, at least for a time. This w^as to 
have turned aside among the sand ridges, and by keeping 
along some of the lateral hollows, double back upon their 
pursuers. There were several such side hollows ; for on go- 
ing up the main ravine they had observed them, and also in 
coming down ; but in their hurry to put space between them- 
selves and their pursuers, they had overlooked this chance 
of concealment. 

At best it was but slim, though it was the only one that 
offered. It only presented itself when it was too late for 
them to take advantage of it, — only after they had got 
clear out of the gully and stood upon the open level of the 
sea-beach, within less than two hundred yards of the sea it- 
self. There they halted, partly to recover breath and partly 
to hold counsel as to their further course. 


100 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


There was not much time for either ; and as the three 
stood in a triangle with their faces turned towards eacn other, 
the moonlight shone upon lips and cheeks blanched with 
dismay. 

It now occurred to them for the first time, and simultane- 
ously, that there was no hope of their escaping, either by 
flight or concealment. 

They were already some distance out upon the open plain, 
as conspicuous upon its surface of white sand as would have 
been three black crows in the middle of a field six inches 
under snow. 

They saw that they had made a rnistake. They should 
have stayed among the sand-ridges and sought ‘shelter in 
some of the deep gullies that divided them. They bethought 
them of going back ; but a moment’s deliberation was suf- 
ficient to convince them that this was no longer practicable. 
There would not be time, scarce even to re-enter the ravine, 
before their pursuers would be upon them. 

It was an instinct that had caused them to rush towards 
the sea — their habitual home, for which they had thought- 
lessly sped — notwithstanding their late rude ejection from 
it. Now that they stood upon its shore, as if appealing to 
it for protection, it seemed still desirous of spurning them 
from its bosom, and leaving them without mercy to their 
merciless enemies! 

A line of ' breakers trended parallel to the water’s edge — • 
scarce a cable’s length from the shore, and not two hundred 
yards from the spot where they had come to a pause. 

They were not very formidable breakers — only the tide 
rolling over a sand-bar, or a tiny reef of rocks. It w^as at 
best but a big surf, crested with occasional flakes of foam, 
and sweeping in successive swells against the smooth beach. 

What was there in all this to fix the attention of the 
fugitives — for it had? The seething flood seemed only to 
hiss at their despair ! 


A SUBAQUEOUS ASYLUM. 


101 


And yet almost on the instant after suspending their 
flight, they had turned their faces towards it — as if some 
object of interest had suddenly shown itself in the surf. 
Object there was none — nothing but the flakes of white 
froth and the black vitreous waves over which it was danc- 
\ng. 

It was not an object, but a purpose that was engaging 
their attention — a resolve that had suddenly sprung up 
within their minds — almost as suddenly to be carried into 
execution. After all, their old home was not to prove so 
inhospitable. It would provide them with a place of con- 
cealment ! 

The thought occurred to all three almost at the same in- 
stant of time ; though Terence was the first to give speech 
to it. 

“ By Saint Patrick ! ” he exclaimed, “ let ’s take to the 
wather I Them breakers ^11 give us a good hiding-place. 
I Ve hid before now in that same way, when taking a moon- 
light bath on the coast of owld Galway. I did it to scare 
my schoolfellows — by making believe I was drowned. 
What say ye to our trying it?’* 

His companions made no reply. They had scarce even 
waited for the wind-up of his harangue. Both had equally 
perceived the feasibility of the scheme ; and yielding to a 
like impulse, all three started into a fresh run, with their 
faces turned towards the sea. 

In less than a score of seconds, they had crossed the strip 
of strand; and in a similarly short space of time were 
plunging — thigh deep — through the water; still striding 
impetuously onward, as if they intended to wade across the 
Atlantic I 

A few more strides, however, brought them to a stand — 
just inside the line of breakers — where the seething wat- 
ers, settling down into a state of comparative tranquillity, 
presented a surface variegated with large clouts of floating 

troth. 


102 ^ 


THE BOY' SLAVES. 


Amidst this mottling of white and black, even under the 
bright moonlight, it would have been difficult for the keenest 
eye to have detected the head of a human being — sup- 
posing the body to have been kept carefully submerged ; 
and under this confidence, the mids were not slow in sub- 
merging themselves. 

Ducking down, till their chins touched the water, all three 
were soon as completely out of sight — to any eye looking 
from the shore — as if Neptune, pitying their forlorn con- 
dition, had stretched forth his trident with a bunch of sea- 
weed upon its prongs, to screen and protect them. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE PURSUERS NONPLUSSED. 



OT a second too soon had they succeeded in making 


1’^ good their entry into this subaqueous asylum. Scarce 
had their chins come in contact with the water, when the 
voices of men — accompanied by the baying of dogs, the 
snorting of maherries, and the neighing of horses — were 
heard within the gorge, from which they had just issued ; 
and in' a few minutes after a straggling crowd, composed of 
these various creatures, came rushing out of the ravine. Of 
men, afoot and on horseback, twenty or more were seen 
pouring forth ; all, apparently, in hot haste, as if eager to 
be in at the death of some object pursued, — that could not 
possibly escape capture. 

Once outside the jaws of the gully, the irregular cavalcade 
advanced scatteringly over the plain. Only for a short dis- 
tance, however; for, as if by a common understanding, 
rather than in obedience to any command, all came to a 


halt. 


THE PURSUERS NONPLUSSED. 


103 


A silence followed this halt, — apparently proceeding from 
astonishment. It was general, — it might be said universal, 
— for even the animals appeared to partake of it ! At all 
events, some seconds transpired during which the only sound 
heard was the sighing of the sea, and the only motion to be 
observed was the sinking and swelling of the waves. 

The Saaran rovers on foot, — as well as those that were 
mounted, — their horses^ dogs, and camels, as they stood 
upon that smooth plain, seemed to have been suddenly 
transformed into stone, and set like so many sphinxes in 
the sand. 

In truth it was surprise that had so transfixed them,— » 
the men, at least ; and their well-trained animals were only 
acting in obedience to a habit taught them by their masters, 
who, in the pursuit of their predatory life, can cause these 
creatures to be both silent and still, whenever the occasion 
requires it. 

Foi their surprise, — which this exhibition of it proved 
to be extreme, — the Sons of the Desert had sufficient rea- 
son. They had seen the three midshipmen on the crest of 
the sand-ridge ; had even noted the peculiar garb that be- 
decked their bodies, — all this beyond doubt. Notwithstand- 
ing the haste with which they had entered on the pursuit, 
they had not continued it either in a reckless or improvident 
manner. Skilled in the ways of the wilderness, — cautious 
as cats, — they had continued the chase ; those in the lead 
from time to time assuring themselves that the game was still 
before them. This they had done by glancing occasionally 
to the ground, where shoe-tracks in the soft sand — three 
sets of them — leading to and fro, were sufficient evidence 
that the three mids must have gone back to the embouchure 
of the ravine, and thither emerged upon the open sea-beach. 

Where were they now ? 

Looking up the smooth strand as far as the eye could 
reach, and down it to a like distance, there was no place 


104 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


/ 


where a crab could have screened itself ; and these Saiiraii 
wreckers, well acquainted with the coast, knew that in neither 
direction was there any other ravine or gully into which the 
fugitives could have retreated. 

No wonder, then, that the pursuers wondered, even to 
speechlessness. 

Their silence was of short duration, though it was suc- 
ceeded only by cries expressing their great surprise, among 
which might have been distinguished their usual invocations 
to Allah and the Prophet. It was evident that a supersti- 
tious feeling had arisen in their minds, not without its usual 
accompaniment of fear ; and although they no longer kept 
their places, the movement now observable among them was 
that they gathered closer together, and appeared to enter 
upon a grave consultation. 

This was terminated by some of them once more proceed- 
ing to the embouchure of the ravine, and betaking themselves 
to a fresh scrutiny of the tracks made by the shoes of the 
midshipmen; while the rest sat silently upon their horses 
and maherries awaiting the result. 

The foot-marks of the three mids were still easily tracea- 
ble — even on the ground already trampled by the Arabs, 
their horses, and maherries. The “cloots” of a camel would 
not have been more conspicuous in the mud of an English 
road, than were the shoe-prints of the three young seamen 
in the sands of the Saara. The Arab trackers had no diffi- 
culty in making them out ; and in a few minutes had traced 
them from the mouth of the gorge, almost in a direct line to 
the sea. There, however, there was a breadth of wet sea- 
beach — where the springy sand instantly obliterated any 
foot-mark that might be made upon it — and there the tracts 
ended. 

But why should they have extended farther? No one 
could have gone beyond that point, without either walking 
straight into the water, or keeping along the strip of sea- 
beach, upwards or downwards. 


A DOUBLE PREDICAMENT. 


105 


The fugitives could not have escaped in either way — • un- 
less they had taken to the water, and committed suicide by 
drowning themselves ! Up the coast, or down it, they would 
have been seen to a certainty. 

Their pursuers, clustering around the place where the 
tracks terminated, were no wiser than ever. Some of them 
were ready to believe that drowning had been the fate of 
the castaways upon their coast, and so stated it to their com- 
panions. But they spoke only conjectures, and in tones that 
told them, like the rest, to be under the influence of some 
superstitious fear. Despite their confidence in the protection 
of their boasted Prophet, they felt a natural dread of that 
wilderness of w-aters, less known to them than the wilder- 
ness of sand. 

Ere long ‘they withdrew from its presence, and betook 
themselves back to their encampment, under a half belief 
that the three individuals seen and pursued had either 
drowned themselves in the great deep, or by some mysterious 
means known to these strange men of the sea, had escaped 
across its far-reaching waters! 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

A DOUBLE PREDICAMENT. 

S HORT time as their pursuers had stayed upon the strand, 
it seemed an age to the submerged midshipmen. 

. On first placing themselves in position, they had chosen a 
spot where, with their knees resting upon the bottom, they 
could just hold their chins above water. This would enable 
them to hold their ground without any great difficulty, and 
for some time they so maintained it. 

5 * 


106 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Soon, however, they began to perceive that the water waa 
rising around them, — a circumstance easily explained by 
the influx of the tide. The rise was slow and gradual : but^ 
for all that, they saw that should they require to remain in 
their place of concealment for any length of time, drowning 
must be their inevitable destiny. 

A means of avoiding this soon presented itself. Inside 
the line of breakers, the water shoaled gradually towards 
the shore. By advancing in this direction they could still 
keep to the same depth. This course they adopted — glid- 
ing cautiously forward upon their knees, whenever the tide 
admonished them to repeat the manceuvre. 

This state of affairs would have been satisfactory enough, 
but for a circumstance that, every moment, was making it- 
self more apparent. At each move they were Yiot only ap- 
proaching nearer to their enemies, scattered along the 
strand ; but as they receded from the line of the breakers, 
the water became comparatively tranquil, and its smooth 
surface, less confused by the masses of floating foam, was 
more likely to betray them to the spectators on the shore. 

To avoid this catastrophe — which would have been fatal 
— they moved shoreward, only when it became absolutely 
necessary to do so, often permitting the tidal waves to sweep 
completely over the crown of their heads, and several times 
threaten suffocation. 

Under circumstances so trying, so apparently hopeless, most 
lads — aye, most men — would have submitted to despair, 
and surrendered themselves to a fate apparently unavoidable. 
But with that true British pluck — combining the tenacity 
of the Scotch terrier, the English bulldog, and the Irish 
staghound — the three youthful representatives of the triple 
kingdom determined to hold on. 

And they held on, with the waves washing against their 
cheeks — and at intervals quite over their heads — with the 
briny fluid rushing into their ears and up their nostrils, until 


A DOUBLE PREDICAMENT. 


107 


one after another began to believe, that there would be no 
alternative between surrendering to the cruel sea, or to the 
not less cruel sons of the Saara. 

As they were close together, they could hold council, — » 
conversing all the time in something louder than a whisper. 
There was no risk of their being overheard. Though scarce a 
cable’s length from the shore, the hoarse soughing of the 
surf would have drowned the sound of their voices, even if 
uttered in a much louder tone ; but being skilled in the 
acoustics of the ocean, they exchanged their thoughts with 
due caution ; and while encouraging one another to remain 
firm, they speculated freely upon the chances of escaping 
from their perilous predicament. 

While thus occupied, a 'predicament of an equally perilous, 
and still niore singular kind, was in store for them. They 
had been hitherto advancing towards the water’s edge, — in 
regular progression with the influx of the tide, — aU the 
while upon their knees. This, as already stated, had en- 
abled them to sustain themselves steadily, without showing 
anything more than three quarters of the head above the 
surface. 

All at once, however, the water appeared to deepen ; and 
by going upon their knees they could no longer surmount 
the waves, — even with their eyes. By moving on towards 
the beach, they might again get into shallow water ; but just 
at this point the commotion caused by the breakers came to 
a termination, and the flakes of froth, with the surround- 
ing spray of bubbles, here bursting, one after another, left 
the surface of the sea to its restored tranquillity. Any- 
thing beyond — a cork, or the tiniest waif of seaweed 
— could scarce fail to be seen from the strand, — though 
the latter was itself constantly receding as the tide flowed 
inward. 

The submerged middies were now in a dilemma they had 
not dreamed of. By holding their ground, they could not 


108 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


fail to go under.” By advancing further, they would run 
the risk of being discovered to the enemy. 

Their first movement was to get up from their knees, and 
raise their heads above water by standing in a crouched atti- 
tude on their feet. This they had done before, — more than 
once, — returning to the posture of supplication only when 
too tired to sustain themselves. 

This they attempted again, and determined to continue it 
to the last moment, — in view of the danger of approaching 
nearer to the enemy. 

To their consternation they now found it would no longer 
avail them. Scarce had they risen erect before discovering 
that even in this position they were immersed to the chin, 
and after plunging a pace or two forward, they were still 
sinking deeper. They could feel that their feet were not 
resting on firm bottom, but constantly going down. 

“A quicksand !” was the apprehension that rushed simul- 
taneously into the minds of all three ! 

Fortunately for them, the Arabs at that moment, yielding 
to their fatalist fears, had faced away from the shore ; else 
the plunging and splashing made by them in their violent 
endeavors to escape from the quicksand, could not have 
failed to dissipate these superstitions, and cause their pur- 
suers to complete the capture they had so childlessly re- 
linquished. 

As it chanced, the Saiiran wreckers saw nothing of all 
this ; and as the splashing sounds, which otherwise might 
have reached them, were drowned by the louder sough of 
the sea, they returned toward their encampment in a state 
of perplexity bordering upon bewilderment ! 


ONCE MORE THE MOCKING LAUGH. 


109 


CHAPTER XXXII 


ONCfi MORE THE MOCKING LAUGH. 

FTER a good deal of scrambling and struggling, our 



adventurers succeeded in getting clear of the quicksand, 
and planting their feet upon firmer bottom, — a little nearer 
to the water’s edge. Though at this point more exposed 
than they wished to be, they concealed themselves as well 
as they could, holding their faces under the water up to the 


eyes. 


Though believing that their enemies were gone for good, 
they dared not as yet wade out upon the beach. The re- 
tiring pursuers would naturally be looking back ; and as the 
moon was still shining clearly as ever, they might be seen 
from a great distance. 

They feel that they would not be safe in leaving their 
place of concealment until the horde had recrossed the ridge, 
and descended once more into the oasis that contained their 
encampment. 

Making a rough calculation as to the time it would take 
for the return journey, — and allowing a considerable mar- 
gin against the eventuality of any unforeseen delay, — the 
mids remained in their subaqueous retreat, without any ma- 
terial change of position. 

When at length it appeared to them that the “ coast was 
clear,” they rose to their feet, and commenced wading tow- 
ards the strand. 

Though no longer believing themselves observed, they 
proceeded silently and with caution, — the only noise made 
among them being the chattering of their teeth, which were 
going like three complete sets of castanets. 

This they could not help. The night breeze playing upon 
the saturated garments, — that clung coldly around their 


110 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


bodies, — chilled them to the very bones ; and not only their 
teeth, but their knees knocked together, as they staggered 
towards the beach. 

Just before reaching it, an incident arose that filled them 
with fresh forebodings. The strange beast that had threat- 
ened to intercept their retreat over the ridge, once more ap- 
peared before their eyes. It was either the same, or one of 
the same kind, — equally ugly, and to all appearance, equal- 
ly determined to dispute their passage. 

It was now patrolling the strand close by the water’s 
edge, — going backwards and forwards, precisely as it had 
done along the saddle-shaped sand wreath, — all the while 
keeping its hideous face turned towards them. With the 
moon behind their backs, they had a better view of it than 
before ; but this, though enabling them to perceive that it 
was some strange quadruped, did not in any way improve 
their opinion of it. They could see that it was covered with 
a coat of long shaggy hair, of a brindled brown color ; and 
that from a pair of large orbs, set obliquely in its head, 
gleamed forth a fierce, sullen light. 

How it had come there they knew not ; but there it was. 
Judging from the experience of their former encounter with 
it they presumed it would again retreat at their approach ; 
and, once more drawing their dirks, they advanced boldly 
towards it. 

They were not deceived. Long before they were near, 
the uncouth creature turned tail; and, again giving utter- 
ance to its unearthly cry, scampered off towards the ravine, 
— in whose shadowy depths it soon disappeared from their 
view. 

Supposing they had nothing further to fear, our adven- 
turers stepped out upon the strand, and commenced consul- 
tation as to their future course. 

To keep on down the coast and get as far as possible from 
the Arab encampment, — was the thought of all three; and 


ONCE MORE THE MOCKING LAUGH. 


Ill 


as they were unanimous in this, scarce a moment was wasted 
in coming to a determination. Once resolved, they faced 
southward ; and started off as briskly as their shivering 
frames and saturated garments would allow them. 

There was not much to cheer them on their way, — only 
the thought that they had so adroitly extricated themselves 
from a dread danger. But even this proved only a fanciful 
consolation ; for scarce had they made a score of steps along 
the strand, when they were brought to a sudden halt, by 
hearing a noise that appeared to proceed from the ravine 
behind them. 

It was a slight noise, something like a snort, apparently 
made by some animal ; and, for the moment, they supposed 
it to come from the ugly quadruped that, after saluting them, 
had retreated up the gorge. 

On turning their eyes in that direction, they at once saw 
that they were mistaken. 'A quadruped had produced the 
noise ; but one of a very different kind from the hairy brute 
with which they had parted. Just emerging from the shad- 
ow of the sand-hills, they perceived a huge creature, whoso 
uncouth shape proclaimed it to be a camel. 

The sight filled them with consternation. Not that it was 
a camel ; but because, at the same time, they discovered that 
there was a man upon its back, who, brandishing a long 
weapon, was urging the animal towards them. 

The three midshipmen made no effort to continue the 
journey thus unexpectedly interrupted. They saw that any 
attempt to escape from such a fast-going creature would be 
idle. Encumbered as they were with their wet garments, 
they could not have distanced a lame duck ; and, resigning 
themselves to the chances of destiny, they stood awaiting the 
encounter. 


112 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 

A. CUNNING SHEIK. 

W HEN the camel and its rider first loomed in siglit, 
— indistinctly seen under the shadow of the sand 
dunes, — our adventurers had conceived a faint hope tliat it 
might be Sailor Bill. 

It was possible, they thought, that the old man-o-war’s- 
man, left unguarded in the camp, might have laid hands on 
the maherry that had made away with him, and pressed it 
into service to assist his escape. 

The hope was entertained only for an instant. Bill had 
encountered no such golden opportunity; but was still a 
prisoner in the tent of the black sheik, surrounded by his 
shrewish tormentors. 

It was the maherry, however, that was seen coming back : 
for as it came near the three middies recognized the creature 
whose intrusion upon their slumbers of the preceding night 
had been the means, perhaps, of saving their lives. 

Instead of a Jack Tar now surmounting its high hunch, 
they saw a little wizen-faced individual with sharp angular 
features, and a skin of yellowish hue puckered like parch- 
ment. He appeared to be at least sixty years of age ; while 
his costume, equipments, and above all, a certain authorita- 
tive bearing, bespoke him to be one of the head men of the 
horde. 

Such in truth was he, — one of the two sheiks, — the old 
Arab to whom the straying camel belonged ; and who was 
now mounted on his own maherry. 

His presence on the strand at this, to our adventurers, most 
mopportune moment, requires explanation. 

He had been on the beach before, along with the Others ; 
and had gone away with the rest. But instead of contim 


A CUNNING SHEIK. 


113 


uing on to the encampment, he had fallen behind in the ra- 
vine ; where, under the cover of some rocks, and favored by 
the obscure light within the gorge, he had succeeded in giv- 
ing his comrades the slip. There he had remained, — per- 
mitting the rest to recross the ridge, and return to the tents. 

He had not taken these steps without an object. Less 
superstitious than his black brother sheik, he knew there 
must be some natural explanation of the disappearance of 
the three castaways ; and he had determined to seek, and if 
possible, to discover it. 

It was not mere curiosity that prompted him to this de- 
termination. He had been all out of sorts, with himself, since 
losing Sailor Bill in the game of helga ; and he was desirous 
of obtaining some compensation for his ill-luck, by captur- 
ing the three castaways who had so mysteriously disap- 
peared. 

As to their having either drowned themselves, or walked 
away over the waste of waters, the old sheik had seen too 
many Saaran summers and winters to give credence either 
to one tale or the other. He knew they would turn up 
again ; and though he was not quite certain of the where, he 
more than half suspected it. He had kept his suspicions to 
himself, — not imparting them even to his own special fol- 
lowers. By the laws of the Saara, a slave taken by any 
one of the tribe belongs not to its chief, but to the individ- 
ual who makes the capture. For this reason, had the cun- 
ning sexagenarian kept his thoughts to himself, and fallen 
solus into the rear of the returning horde. 

It might be supposed that he would have made some of 
his following privy to his plan, — for the sake of having 
help to effect such a wholesale capture. But no. His ex- 
perience as a “ Barbary wrecker ” had taught him that 
there would be no danger, — no likelihood of resistance, — * 
even though the castaways numbered thirty instead of 
three. 


114 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Armed with this confidence, and his long gun, he had re- 
turned down the ravine ; and laid in wait near its mouth, — 
at a point where he commanded a view of the coast line, to 
the distance of more than a mile on each side of him. 

His vigil was soon rewarded : by seeing the three indi- 
viduals for whom it had been kept step forth from the sea, 
— as if emerging from its profoundest depths, — and stand 
conspicuously upon the beach. 

He had waited for nothing more ; but, giving the word to 
his maherry, had ridden out of the ravine, and was now 
advancing with all speed upon the tracks of the retreating 
mids. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

A QUEER ENCOUNTER. 

I N about threescore seconds from the time he was first seen 
pursuing them, the old sheik was up to the spot where 
our adventurers had awaited him. 

His first salute appeared to be some words of menace or 
command, — rendered more emphatic by a series of gestures 
made with his long gun ; which was successively pointed at 
the heads of the three. Of course, none of them understood 
what was said ; but his gesticulations made it clear enough, 
that he required their company to the Arab encampment. 

Their first impulse was to yield obedience to this com- 
mand ; and Terence had given a sign of assent, which was 
acquiesced in by Colin. Not so Master Blount, in whom 
the British bull-dog had become aroused even to the show- 
ing of his teeth. 

“ See him hanged first ! ” cried Harry. ‘‘ What ! yield up 
to an old monkey like that, and walk tamely to the camp at 


A QUEER ENCOUNTER. 


115 


the tail of his camel ? No such thing ! If I am to be- 
come a prisoner, it will be to one who can take me.” 

Terence, rather ashamed at having shown such facile sub- 
mission, now rushed to the opposite extreme ; and drawing 
his dirk, cried out, — 

“ By Saint Patrick ! I ’m with you, Harry ! Let ’s die, 
rather than yield ourselves prisoners to such a queer old 
curmudgeon ! ” 

Colin, before declaring himself, glanced sharply around, 
— carrying his eye towards the emhouchure of the ravine, to 
assure himself that the Arab was alone. 

As there was nobody else in sight, — and no sound heard 
that would indicate the proximity of any one, — it was prob- 
able enough that the rider of the maherry was the only ene- 
my opposed to them. 

The deil take him ! ” cried Colin, after making his cau- 
tious reconnoissance. “ If he take us, he must first fight for 
it. Come on, old skin-flint ! you ’ll find we ’re true British 
tars, — ready for a score of such as you.” 

The three youths had by this time unaheathed their shin- 
ing daggers, and thrown themselves in^ a sort of triangle, 
the maherry in their midst. 

The old sheik — unprepared for r/jch a reception — was 
altogether taken aback by it ; and rbr some seconds sate up- 
on his high perch seemingly irresolute how to act. 

Suddenly his rage appeared to rise to such a pitch, that 
he could no longer command his actions ; and bringing the 
long gun to his shoulder, he levelled it at Harry Blount, — » 
who had been foremost in braving him. 

The stream of smoke, pouring forth from its muzzle, for a 
moment enveloped the form of the youthful mariner ; but 
from the midst of that sulphury nimbus came fcrth a clear 
manly voice, pronouncing the word “ Missed ! ” 

“ Thank God ! ” cried Terence and Colin, in a breath ; 
“ now we have him in our power ! He can’t load again I 
Let ’s on him all together ! Heave ho ! ” 


116 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


And uttering this nautical phrase of encouragement, the 
three mids, with naked dirks, rushed simultaneously towards 
the maherry. 

The Arab, old as he may have been, showed no signs ei- 
ther of stiffness or decrepitude. On the contrary he exhibited 
all the agility of a tiger-cat ; along with a fierce determina- 
tion to continue the combat he had initiated, — notwith- 
standing the odds that were against him. On discharging 
his gun, he had flung the useless weapon to the ground ; and 
instead of it now grasped a long curving scimitar, with 
which he commenced cutting around him in every direc- 
tion. 

Thus armed, he had the advantage of his assailants ; for 
while he might reach any one of them by a quick cut, they 
with their short dirks could not come within thrusting-dis- 
tance of him, without imminent danger of having their arms, 
or perchance their heads, lopped sheer off their shoulders. 

Defensively, too, had the rider of the maherry an advan- 
tage over his antagonists. While within distance of them, 
at the point of his curving blade, seated upon his high perch, 
he was beyond the reach of their weapons. Get close to 
him as they might, and spring as high as they were able, 
they could not bring the tips of their daggers in contact 
with his skin. 

In truth, there seemed no chance for them to inflict the 
slightest wound upon him ; while at each fresh “ wheel ” of 
the maherry, and each new sweep of the scimitar, one or 
other of them was in danger of decapitation I 

On first entering upon the fight, our adventurers had not 
taken into account the impregnable position of their antago- 
nist. Soon, however, did they discover the advantages in 
his favor, with their own proportionate drawbacks. To 
neutralize these was the question that now occupied them. 
If something was not done soon, one or other — perhaps 
all three — would have to succumb to that keen cutting of 
the scimitar. 



THE SHEIK CAPTURED 







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A QUEER ENCOUNTER. 


117 


‘‘ Let ’s kill the camel ! ” cned Harry Blount, “ that ’ll 
bring him within reach ; and then — ” 

The idea of the English youth was by no means a bad 
one ; and perhaps would have been carried out. But be- 
fore he could finish his speech, another scheme had been 
conceived by Terence, — who had already taken steps to- 
wards its execution. 

It was this that had interrupted Harry Blount in the ut- 
terance of his counsel. 

At school the young Milesian had been distinguished in 
the exercise of vaulting. “ Leap-frog ” had been his espe- 
cial delight ; and no mountebank could bound to a greater 
height than he. At this crisis he remembered his old ac- 
* complishment, and called it to his aid. 

Seeking an opportunity, — when the head of the maherry 
was turned towards his comrades, and its tail to himself, — 
he made an energetic rush ; sprang half a score of feet from 
the ground; and flinging apart his feet, while in the air, 
came down “ stride legs ” upon the croup of the camel. 

It was fortunate for the old Arab that the effort thus 
made by the amateur saltimhanque had shaken the dirk from 
his grasp, — else, in another instant, the camel would have 
ceased to “ carry double.” 

As it was, its two riders continued upon its back ; but m 
such close juxtaposition, that it would- have required sharp 
eyes and a good light to tell that more than one individual 
was mounted upon it. 

Fast enfolded in the arms of the vigorous young Hiber- 
nian, could scarce be distinguished the carcass of the old 
Arab sheik, — shrunken to half size by the powerful com- 
pression ; while the scimitar, so late whistling with perilous 
impetuosity through the air, was now seen lying upon the 
sand, — its gleam no longer striking terror into the hearts 
of those whoso heads it had been threatening to lop off ! 


118 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

HOLDING ON TO THE HUMP. 

T he struggle between Terence and the sheik still con- 
tinued, upon the back of the maherry. The object of 
the young Irishman was to unhorse, or rather un-camel, his 
antagonist, and get him to the ground. 

This design the old Arab resisted toughly, and with all his 
strength, knowing that dismounted he would be no match 
for the trio of stout lads whom he had calculated on captur- 
ing at his ease. Once a pied he would be at their mercy, 
since he was now altogether unarmed. His gun had been 
unloaded ; and the shining scimitar, of which he had made 
such a dangerous display, was no longer in his grasp. As 
already stated it had fallen to the ground, and at that pre- 
cious moment was being picked up by Colin ; who in all 
probability would have used it upon its owner, had not the 
latter contrived to escape beyond its reach. 

The mode of the sheik’s escape was singular enough. 
Still tenaciously holding on to the hump, from which the 
young Irishman was using every effort to detach him, he 
saw that his only chance of safety lay in retreating from the 
spot, and, by this means, separating the antagonist who 
clutched him from the two others that threatened upon the 
ground below. 

A signal shout to the maherry was sufficient to effect his 
purpose. On hearing it, the well-trained quadruped wheeled, 
as upon a pivot, and in a shambling, but quick pace, started 
back td^wards the ravine, whence it had late issued. 

To their consternation Colin and Harry beheld this unex- 
pected movement ; and before either of them could lay hold 
of the halter, — now trailing along the sand, — the maherry 
was going at a rate of speed which they vainly endeavored 


HOLDING ON TO THE HUMP. 


119 


to surpass They could only follow in its waJke, — as they 
did so, shouting to Terence to let go his hold of the sheik, 
and take his chance of a tumble to the ground. 

Their admonitions appeared not to be heeded. ThSy 
were not needed, — at least after a short interval had 
elapsed. 

At first the young Irishman had been so intent on his en- 
deavors to dismount his adversary, that he did not notice the 
signal given to the maherry, nor the retrograde movement it 
had inaugurated. Not until the camel was re-entering tho 
ravine, and the steep sides of the sand dunes cast their dark 
shadows before him, did he observe that he was being car- 
ried away from his companions. 

Up to this time he had been vainly striving to detach the 
sheik from his hold upon the hump. On perceiving the dan- 
ger, however, he desisted from this design, and at once en- 
tered upon a struggle of a very difierent kind, — to detach 
himself. 

In all probability this would have proved equally difficult, 
for, struggle as he might, the tough old Arab, no longer 
troubling himself about the control of his camel, had twisted 
his sinewy fingers under the midshipman’s dirk-belt, and 
held the latter in juxtaposition to his own body, supported 
by the hump of the maherry, as if his very life depended on 
not letting go. 

A lucky circumstance — and this only — hindered the 
young Irishman from being carried to the Arab encamp- 
ment; a circumstance very similar to that which on the 
preceding night had led to the capture of that same camel. 

Its halter was again trailing. 

Its owner, occupied with the “ double ” which it had so 
unexpectedly been called upon to carry, was conducting it 
only by his voice, and had neither thought nor hands for the 
halter. 

Once again the trailing end got into the split hoof — once 


120 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


again the maherry was tripped up ; and came down neck 
foremost upon the sand. 

Its load was spilled — Bedouin and Hibernian coming 
together to the ground — both, if not dangerously hurt, at 
least so shaken, as, for some seconds, to be deprived of their 
senses. 

Neither had quite recovered from the shock, when Harry 
Blount and Colin, coming up in close pursuit, stooped over 
the prostrate pair ; and neither Arab nor Irishman was very 
clear in his comprehension, when a crowd of strange crea- 
tures closed around them, and took possession of the whole 
party ; as they did so yelling like a cohort of fiends. 

In the obfuscation of his “ sivin ” senses, the young Irish- 
man may have scarcely understood what was passing around 
him. It was too clear to his companions, — clear as a catas- 
trophe could be to those who are its victims. 

The shot fired by the sheik, if failing in the effects in- 
tended, had produced a result almost equally fatal to the 
three fugitives, — it had given warning to the Arabs in their 
encampment ; who, again sallying forth, had arrived just in 
time to witness the “ decadence ” of the camel, and now sur- 
rounded the group that encircled it. 

The courageous representative of England and the cool 
young Scotchman were both taken by surprise, too much so 
to give them a chance of thinking either of resistance or 
flight ; while the mind of the Irish middy, from a different 
cause, was equally in a hopeless “ muddle.” 

It resulted in all three being captured and conducted up 
the ravine towards the camp of the wreckers. 


OUR ADVENTURERS IN UNDRESS. 


121 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


OUR ADVENTURERS IN UNDRESS. 

TJR adventurers made their approach to the douar, — 



for such is the title of an Arab encampment, — with 
as much unwillingness as Sailor Bill had done but an hour 
before. Equally sans ceremonie, or even with less cere- 
mony, did they enter among the tents, and certainly in a less 
becoming costume, — since all three were stark naked with 
the exception of their shirts. 

This was the only article of clothing their captors had left 
upon their backs ; and so far as comfort was concerned, they 
would have been as well without it: for there was not a thread 
of the striped cotton that was not saturated with sea-water. 

It was a wonder that even these scanty garments were not 
taken from them ; considering the eagerness with which they 
had been divested of everything else. 

On the instant after being laid hold of, they had been 
stripped with as much rapidity, as if their bodies were about 
to be submitted to some ignominious chastisement. But 
they knew it was not that — only a desire on the part of 
their captors to obtain possession of their clothes — every 
article of which became the subject of a separate contention, 
and more than one leading to a dispute that was near ter- 
minating in a contest between two scimitars. 

In this way their jackets and dreadnought trowsers — 
their caps and shoes — their dirks, belts, and pocket para- 
phernalia — were distributed among nearly as many claim- 
ants as there were pieces. 

You may suppose that modesty interfered to reserve to 
them their shirts ? Such a supposition would be altogether 
erroneous. There is no such word in the Bedouin vocabu- 
lary — no such feeling in the Bedouin breast. 


122 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


In the douaf to which they were conducted were lads as 
old as they, and lasses too, without the semblance of clothing 
upon their nude bodies ; not even a shirt, — not even the 
orientally lamed fig-leaf ! 

The reason of their being allowed to retain their homely 
garments had nothing to do with any sentiment of delicacy. 
For the favor, — if such it could be called, — they were 
simply indebted to the avarice of the old sheik, who, hav- 
ing recovered from the stunning effects of his tumble, 
claimed all three as his captives, and their shirts along with 
them ! 

His claim as to their persons was not disputed ; they were 
his by Saaran custom. So, too, would their clothing, had his 
capture been complete ; but as there was a question about 
this, a distribution of the garments had been demanded and 
acceded to. 

The sheik, however, would not agree to giving up the 
shirts ; loudly declaring that they belonged to the skin ; and 
after some discussion on this moot point, his claim was al- 
lowed ; and our adventurers were spared the shame of enter- 
ing the Arab encampment in puris naturalibus. 

In their shirts did they once more stand face lo face with 
Sailor Bill, not a bit better clad than they : for though the 
old man-o’-war’s-man was still “ anchored ” by the marquee 
of the black sheik, his “ toggery ” had long before been dis- 
tributed throughout the douar ; and scarce a tent but con- 
tained some portion of his “ belongings.” 

His youthful comrades saw, but were not permitted to 
approach him. They were the undisputed property of the 
rival chieftain, — to whose tent they were taken ; but not 
until they had “ run a muck ” among the women and chil- 
dren, very similar to that which Bill had to submit to him- 
self. It terminated in a similar manner : that is, by their 
owner taking them under his protection, — not from any 
motives of humanity, but simply to save his property from 


THE CAPTIVES IN CONVERSATION. 


123 


receiving damage at the hands of the incarnate female furies, 
who seemed to take delight in maltreating them ! 

The old sheik, after allowing his fair followers, with their 
juvenile neophites^ for some length of time to indulge in 
their customary mode of saluting strange captives, with- 
drew the latter beyond the reach of persecution, to a place 
assigned them under the shadow of his tent. There, with 
a sinewy Arab standing over them, — though as often 
squatted beside them, — they were permitted to pass the 
remainder of the night, if not in sleep at least in a state 
of tranquillity. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE CAPTIVES IN CONVERSATION. 

T his tranquillity only related to any disturbance expe- 
rienced from their captors. There was none. 

These had been on the eve of striking their tents, and 
moving off to some other oasis, — previous to the last inci- 
dent that had arisen. 

As already stated, the two sheiks, by a mutual under- 
standing, had been about to shake hands, and separate, — 
the son of Japhet going north, to the markets of Morocco, 
while the descendant of Ham was to face homeward to his 
more tropical and appropriate clime, — under the skies of 
Timbuctoo. 

The « windfall” that had so unexpectedly dropped into 
the douar; first in the shape of Sailor Bill, — and after- 
wards, in more generous guise, by the capture of the three 
“young gentlemen” of the gunroom, — had caused some 
change in the plans of their captors. 


124 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


By mutual understanding between the two sheiks, some- 
thing was to be done in the morning ; and their design of 
separating was deferred to another day. 

The order to strike tents had been countermanded : and 
both tribes retired to rest, — as soon as the captives had 
been disposed of for the night. 

The douar was silent, — so far as the children of Ham 
and Japhet were concerned. Even their children had ceased 
to clamor and squall. 

At intervals might be heard the neigh of a Barbary 
horse, the barking of a dog, the bleating of a goat, or a 
sound yet more appropriate to the scene, the snorting of a 
maherry. 

In addition to these, human voices were heard. But they 
proceeded from the throats of the sons of Shem. For the 
most part they were uttered in a low tone, as the three mid- 
shipmen conversed seriously and earnestly together ; but 
occasionally they became elevated to a higher pitch, when 
Sailor Bill, guarded on the opposite side of the encampment 
— took part in the conversation, and louder speech was 
necessary to the interchange of thought between him and 
his fellow-captives. 

The Arab watchers offered no interruption. They under- 
stood not a word of what was being said, and so long as the 
conversation of their captives did not disturb the douar, they 
paid no heed to it. 

“ What have they done to you. Bill ? ” was the first ques- 
tion asked by the new comers, after they had been left 
free to make inquiries. 

“ Faix!” responded the sailor, for it was Terry who had 
put the interrogatory : “ iverything they cowld think av — 
iverything to make an old salt as uncomfortable as can be. 
They Ve not left a sound bone in my body ; nor a spot on 
my skin that’s not ayther pricked or scratched wid thar 
cruel thorns. My carcass must be like an old seventy-four 


the captives in conversation. 


125 


after comin* out av action — as full av holes as a meal 
sieve.” 

But what did they do to you, Bill ? ” said Colin, almost 
literally repeating the interrogatory of Terence. 

The sailor detailed his experiences since entering the en- 
campment. 

“ It ’s very clear,” remarked the young Scotchman, “ that 
we need look for nothing but ill-treatment at the hands of 
these worse than savages. I suppose they intend making 
slaves of us.” 

“ That at least,” quietly assented Harry. 

“ Sartin,” said the sailor. “ They Ve let me know as much 
a’ready. There be two captains to their crew ; one ’s the 
smoke-dried old sinner as brought yer in ; the other a big 
nayger, as black as the ace o* spades. You saw the swab ? 
He ’s inside the tent here. He *s my master. The two 
came nigh quarrelling about which should have me, and set- 
tled it by some sort o’ a game they played wi’ balls of kay- 
mal’s dung. The black won me ; an’ that ’s why I ’m kep 
by his tent. Mother av Moses ! Only to think of a British 
tar being the slave o’ a sooty nayger ! I never thought it 
wud a come to this.” 

“ Where do you think they ’ll take us. Bill ? ” 

“ The Lord only knows, an’ whether we ’re all bound for 
the, same port.” 

“ What ! you think we may be separated ? ” 

“ Be ma sang, Maister Colin, I ha’e ma fears we wull ! ” 

“ What makes you think so ? ” 

“ Why, ye see, as I ’ve telt ye, I ’m booked to ship wi’ the 
black, — ‘ sheik ’ I ’ve heerd them ca’ him. Well : from 
what I ha’e seed and heerd, there ’s nae doot they ’re gaein’ 
to separate an’ tak different roads. I did na ken muckle o’ 
what they sayed, but I could mak oot two words I hae often 
heerd while cruisin’ in the Gulf o’ Guinea. They are the 
^mes o’ two great toons, a lang way up the kin try, — Tim 


126 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


buctoo and Sockatoo. They are negro toons ; an’ for that 
reezun I ha’e a suspeshun my master ’s bound to one or oth- 
er o’ the two ports.” 

“But why do you think that we are to be taken else- 
where ? ” demanded Harry Blount. 

“Why, because, Master ’Arry, you belong to the hold 
sheik, as is plainly a Harab, an’ oose port of hentry lies in a 
different direction, — that be to the northart.” 

“ It is all likely enough,” said Colin ; “ Bill’s prognostica- 
tion is but too probable.” 

“ Why, ye see, Maister Colin, they are only land sharks 
who ha’e got hold o’ us. They ’re too poor to keep us ; an’ 
wull be sure to sell us somewhere, an’ to somebody that ha’e 
got the tocher to gie for us. That ’s what they ’ll do wi’ us 
poor bodies.” 

“ I hope,” said Terence, “ they ’ll not part us. No doubt 
slavery will be hard enough to bear under any circumstan 
ces ; but harder if we have to endure it alone. Together, 
we might do something to alleviate one another’s lot. I 
hope we shall not be separated ! ” 

To this hope all the others made a sincere response ; and 
the conversation came to an end. They who had been car- 
rying it on, worn out by fatigue, and watchfulness long pro- 
tracted, — despite the unpleasantness of their situation,— 
soon after, and simultaneously, yielded their spirits to the 
soothing oblivion of sleep. 


THE DOUAR AT DAWN. 


127 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE DOUAR AT DAWN. 

T hey could have slept for - hours, — twentj-four of 
them, — had they been permitted such indulgence. 

But they were not. As the first streaks of daylight be- 
came visible over the eastern horizon, the whole douar was 
up and doing. 

The women and children of both hordes were seen fiittins 
like shadows among the tents. Some squatted under cam- 
els, or kneeling by the sides of the goats, drew from these 
animals that lacteal fluid that may be said to form the sta- 
ple of their food. Others might be observed emptying the 
precious liquid into skin bottles and sacks, and securing it 
against spilling in its transport through the deserts. 

The matrons of the tribes — hags they looked — were 
preparing the true dejeuner^ consisting of Sangleh, — a sort of 
gruel, made with millet meal, boiled over a dull fire of cam- 
el’s dung. 

The Sangleh was to be eaten, by such of them as could af- 
ford it, mixed with goats’ or camels’ milk, — unstrained and 
hairy, — half curdled into a crab-like acidity, the moment it 
entered its stinking receptacle. 

Here and there men were seen milking their mares or 
maherries, — not a few indulging in the universal beverage 
by a direct application of their lips to the teats of the ani- 
mal ; while others, appointed to the task, were preparing the 
paraphernalia of the douar, for transportation to some distant 
oasis. 

Watching these various movements, were the three mids, 
— still stripped to their shirts, — and the old man-o’-war’s- 
man, clad with like scantiness ; since the only garment that 
clung to his sinewy frame was a pair of cotton drawers nei- 
ther very clean nor very sound at the seams. 


128 


THE BOY SLAVES 


All four shivered in the chill air of the morning ; for hot 
as is the Saara under its noonday sun, in the night hours 
its thermometer frequently falls almost to the point of freez- 
ing! 

Their state of discomfort did not hinder them from ob- 
serving what was passing around them. They could have 
slept on ; but the discordant noises of the douar, and a be- 
lief that they would not be permitted any longer to enjoy 
their interrupted slumbers, hindered them from reclosing 
their eyes. Still recumbent, and occasionally exchanging 
remarks in a low tone of voice, they noted the customs of 
their captors. 

The young Scotchman had read many books relating to 
the prairies of America, and their savage denizens. He 
was forcibly reminded of these by what he now saw in 
this oasis of the sandy Saara ; the women treated like dogs, 
or worse, — doing all the work that might be termed labor, 
— tending the cattle, cooking the meals, pitching or striking 
the tents, loading the animals, — and themselves bearing 
such portions of the load as exceeded the transport strength 
of the tribal quadrupeds, — aided only by such wretched 
helots as misfortune had flung in the way of their common 
masters. The men, mostly idle, — ludicrously nonchalant, — 
reclining on their saddle-pads, or skins, inhaling the narcotic 
weed, apparently proud in the possession of that lordship of 
wretchedness that surrounded them. 

Colin was constrained to compare the savage life of two 
continents, separated by an ocean. He came to the conclu- 
sion, that under similar circumstances, mankind wdll ever be 
the same. In the Comanche of the Llano Estacado, or the 
Pawnee of the Platte, he would have found an exact coun- 
terpart of the Ishmaelitish wanderer over the sandy plains 
of the Saara. 

He was allowed but scant time to philosophize upon these 
ethnological phenomena. As the douar became stirred into 


AN OBSTINATE DROMEDARY. 


129 


general activity, he, along with his two companions, was 
rudely started from his attitude of observation, and ordered 
to take a share in the toils of the captors. 

At an earlier hour, and still more rudely, had Sailor Bill 
received the commands of his master ; who, as the first rays 
of the Aurora began to dapple the horizon, had ordered the 
old man-o-war’s-man to his feet, at the same time adminis- 
tering to him a cruel kick, that came very near shivering 
some of his stern timbers. 

Had the black sheik been acquainted with the English 
language, — ^as spoken in Ratcliff Highway, — he would 
have better understood Sailor Bill’s reply to his rude matu- 
tinal salutation ; which, along with several not very compli- 
mentary wishes, ended by devoting the “ nayger’s ” eyes to 
eternal perdition. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

AN OBSTINATE DROMEDARY. 

T he morning meal was eaten as soon as prepared. Its 
scantiness surprised our adventurers. Even the 
more distinguished individuals of the horde partook of only 
a very small quantity of milk, or sangleh. The two sheiks 
alone got anything like what might have been deemed an 
ordinary breakfast ; while the more common class, as the 
half-breeds — hassanes — and the negro slaves had to con- 
tent themselves with less than a pint of sour milk to each, 
half of which was water — the mixture denominated cheni. 
Could this meal be meant for breakfast ? Harry Blount 
and Terence thought not. But Colin corrected them, by 
alleging that it was. He had read of the wonderful ab- 
6* I 


130 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


stemiousness of these children of the desert : how they can 
live on a single meal a day, and this scarce suflSicient to sus- 
tain life in a child of six years old ; that is, an English child. 
Often will they go for several successive days without eating; 
and when they do eat regularly, a drink of milk is all they 
require to satisfy hunger. 

Colin was right. It was their ordinary breakfast. He 
might have added, their dinner too, for they would not likely 
obtain another morsel of food before sundown. 

But where was the breakfast of Colin and his fellow-cap- 
tives ? This was the question that interested them far more 
than the dietary of the Bedouins. They were all hungering 
like hyenas, and yet no one seemed to think of them — no 
one offered them either bite or sup. Filthy as was the mess 
made by the Arab women, and filthily as they prepared 
it, — boiling it in pots, and serving it up in wooden dishes, 
that did not appear to have had a washing for weeks, — the 
sight of it increased the hungry cravings of the captives ; 
and they would fain have been permitted to share the scanty 
dejeuner. 

They made signs of their desire ; piteous appeals for food, 
by looks and gestures ; but all in vain : not a morsel was 
bestowed on them. Their brutal captors only laughed at 
them, as though they intended that all four should go with- 
out eating. 

it soon became clear that they were not to starve in idle- 
ness. As scon as they had been started to their feet each 
of them W 98 set to a task ; one to collect camels’ dung for 
the cooking fires ; another to fetch water from the brackish 
muddy pool which had caused the oasis to become a place 
of encampment ; while the third was called upon to assist 
in the loading of the tent equipage, along with the salvage 
of the wreck, — an operation entered upon as soon as the 
sangleh had been swallowed. 

Sailor Bill, in a different part of the douar, was kept 


AN OBSTINATE DROMEDARY. 


131 


equallj upon the alert : and if he, or any of the other three, 
showed signs of disliking their respective tasks, one of the 
two sheiks made little ado about striking them with a leath- 
ern strap, a knotty stick, or any weapon that chanced to 
come readiest to hand. They soon discovered that they 
were under the government of taskmasters not to be trifled 
with, and that resistance or remonstrance would be alike fu- 
tile. In short, they saw that they were slaves I 

While packing the tents, and otherwise preparing for the 
march, they were witnesses to many customs, curious as new 
to them. The odd equipages of the animals, — both those 
of burden and those intended to be ridden, — the oval pan- 
niers, placed upon the backs of the camels, to carry the wom- 
en and younger children ; the square pads upon the humps 
of the maherries; the tawny little piccaninnies strapped 
upon the backs of their mothers ; the kneeling of the cam- 
els to receive their loads, — as if consenting to what could 
not be otherwise than disagreeable to them, — were all 
sights that might have greatly interested our adventurers, 
had they been viewing them under different circumstances. 

Out of the last mentioned of these sights, an incident 
arose, illustrating the craft of their captors in the manage- 
ment of their domestic animals. 

A refractory camel, that, according to usual habit, had 
voluntarily humiliated itself to receive its load, after this 
had been packed upon it, refused to rise to its feet. The 
beast either deemed the burden inequable and unjust, — for 
the Arabian camel, like the Peruvian llama, has a very 
acute perception of fair play in this respect, — or a fit of 
caprice had entered its mulish head. For one reason or an- 
other it exhibited a stern determination not to oblige its 
owner by rising to its feet ; but continued its genuflexion in 
spite of every effort to get it on all-fours. 

Coaxing and cajolery were tried to no purpose. Kicking 
by sandalled feet, scourging with whips, and beating with 


132 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


cudgels produced no better effect ; and to all appearance the 
obstinate brute had made up its mind to remain in the oasis 
and let the tribe depart without it. 

At this crisis an ingenious method of making the camel 
change its mind suggested itself to its master ; or perhaps he 
had practised it on some former occasion. Maddened by the 
obstinacy of the animal, he seized hold of an old burnouse, 
and rushing up, threw it over its head. Then drawing the 
rag tightly around its snout, he fastened it in such a manner 
as completely to stop up the nostrils. 

The camel finding its breathing thus suddenly interrupted, 
became terrified ; and without further loss of time, scram- 
bled to its feet — to the great amusement of the women and 
children who were spectators of the scene. 


CHAPTER XL. 

WATERING THE CAMELS. 

I N an incredibly short space of time the tents were down, 
and the douar with all its belongings was no longer to be 
seen; or only in the shape of sundry packages balanced 
upon the backs of the animals. 

The last operation before striking out upon the desert 
track, was the watering of these ; the supply for the journey 
having been already dipped up out of the pool, and poured 
into goat-skin sacks. 

The watering of the camels appeared to be regarded as 
the most important matter of all. In this performance 
every precaution was taken, and every attention bestowed, 
to ensure to the animals a full supply of the precious fluid, 
— perhaps from a presentiment on the part of their owners 


WATERING THE CAMELS. 


133 


that they themselves might some day stand in need of, and 
make use of, the same water ! 

Whether this was the motive or not, every camel belong- 
ing to the horde was compelled to drink till its capacious 
stomach was quite full ; and the quantity consumed by each 
would be incredible to any other than the owner of an Afri- 
can dromedary. Only a very large cask could have con- 
tained it. 

At the watering of the animals, our adventurers had an 
opportunity of observing another incident of the Saara, — 
quite as curious and original as that already described. 

It chanced that the pool that furnished the precious fluid, 
and which contained the only fresh water to be found within 
fifty miles, was just then on the eve of being dried up. A 
long season of drought — that is to say, three or four years 
— had reigned over this particular portion of the desert, 
and the lagoon, formerly somewhat extensive, had shrunk 
into the dimensions of a trifling tank, containing little more 
than two or three hundred gallons. This, during the stay 
of the two tribes united as wreckers, had been daily dimin- 
ishing ; and had the occupants of the douar not struck tents 
at the time they did, in another day or so they would have 
been in danger of suffering from thirst. This was in reality 
the cause of their projected migration. But for the fear of 
getting short in the necessary commodity of fresh water, 
they would have hugged the seashore a little longer, in 
hopes of picking up a few more “ waifs ” from the wreck of 
the English ship. 

At the hour of their departure from the encampment, the 
pool was on the eve of exhaustion. Only a few score gal- 
lons of not very pure water remained in it — about enough 
to fill the capacious stomachs of the camels ; whose owners 
had gauged them too often to be ignorant of the quantity. 

It would not do to play with this closely calculated sup- 
ply. Every pint was precious; and to prove that it was^ 


134 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


BO esteemed, the animals were constrained to swallow it in a 
fashion, which certainly nature could never have intended. 

Instead of taking it in by the mouth, the camels of these 
Saaran rovers were compelled to quench their thirst through 
the nostrils! 

You will wonder in what manner this could be effected ? • 
inquiring whether the quadrupeds voluntarily performed this 
nasal imbibing ? 

Our adventurers, witnesses of the fact, wondered also — 
while struck with its quaint peculiarity. 

There is a proverb that “ one man may take a horse to 
the water, but twenty cannot compel him to drink.” Though 
this proverb may hold good of an English horse, it has no 
significance when applied to an African dromedary. Proof. 
Our adventurers saw the owner of each camel bring his 
animal to the edge of the pool ; but instead of permitting 
the thirsty creature to step in and drink for itself, its head 
was held aloft, a wooden funnel was filled, the narrow end 
inserted into the nostril, and by the respiratory canal the 
water introduced to the throat and stomach I 

You may ask, why this selection of the nostrils instead 
of the mouth? Our adventurers so interrogated one an- 
other. It was only after becoming better acquainted with 
the customs of the Saara that they^acquired a satisfactory 
explanation of one they had frequent occasion to observe. 

Though ordinarily of the most docile disposition, and in 
most of its movements the most tranquil of creatures, the 
dromedary, when drinking from a vessel, has the habit of 
repeatedly shaking its head, and spilling large quantities of 
the water placed before it. Where water is scarce, — and, 
as in the Saara, considered the most momentous matter of 
life, — a waste of it after such a fashion could not be toler- 
ated. To prevent it, therefore, the camel-owner has con- 
trived that this animal, so essential to his own safe existence, 
should drink through the orifices intended by nature for its 
respiration. 


A SQUABBLE BETWEEN THE SHEIKS. 


135 


CHAPTER XLI. 

A SQUABBLE BETWEEN THE SHEIKS. 

T he process of watering the camels was carried on with 
the utmost diligence and care. It was too important 
to be trifled with, or negligently performed. While filling 
the capacious stomachs of the quadrupeds, their owners were 
but laying in a stock for themselves. 

As Sailor Bill jocularly remarked, “ it was like filling the 
water-casks of a man-of-war previous to weighing anchor 
for a voyage.” In truth, very similar was the purpose for 
which these ships of the desert were being supplied ; fui, 
when filling the capacious stomachs of the quadrupeds, their 
owners were not without the reflection that the supply might 
yet pass into their own. Such a contingency wa5 not im- 
probable, neither would it be new. 

For this reason the operation was conducted with dili- 
gence and care, — no camel being led away from the pool 
until it was supposed to have had a “ surfeit,” and this point 
was settled by seeing the water poured in at its nostrils run- 
ning out at its mouth. 

As each in turn got filled, it was taken back to the tribe 
to which it belonged ; for the united hordes had by this time 
become separated into two distinct parties, preparatory to 
starting off on their respective routes. 

Our adventurers could now perceive a marked difierence 
between the two bands of Saara wanderers into whose hands 
they had unfortunately fallen. As already stated, the black 
sheik was an African of the true negro type, with thick lips, 
flattened nostrils, woolly hair, and heels projecting several 
inches to the rear of his ankle-joints. Most of his following 
were similarly “ furnished,” though not all of them. There 
were a few of mixed color, with straight hair, and features 


136 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


almost Caucasian, who submitted to his rule, or rather to his 
ownership, since these last all appeared to be his slaves. 

Those who trooped after the old Arab were mostly of his 
own race, mixed with a remnant of mongrel Portuguese, — 
descendants of the peninsular colonists who had fled from 
the coast settlements after the conquest of Morocco by the 
victorious “ Sheriffs.” 

Of such mixed races are the tribes who thinly people the 
Saara, — Arabs, Berbers, Ethiopians of every hue; all 
equally Bedoweens, — wanderers of the pathless deserts. 
It did not escape the observation of our adventurers that 
the slaves of the Arab sheik and his followers were mostly 
pure negroes from the south, while those of the black chief- 
tain, — as proclaimed by the color of their skin, — showed 
a Shemitic or Japhetic origin. The philosophic Colin could 
perceive in this a silent evidence of the retribution of races. 

The supply of water being at length laid in, not only in 
the skins appropriated to the purpose, but also within the 
stomachs of the camels, the two tribes seemed prepared to 
exchange with each other the parting salute, — to speak the 
“ Peace be with you ! ” And yet there was something that 
caused them to linger in each other’s proximity. Their 
new-made captives could tell this, though ignorant of what 
it might be. 

It was something that had yet to be settled between the 
two sheiks, who did not appear at this moment of leave-tak- 
ing to entertain for each other any very cordial sentiment 
of friendship. 

Could their thoughts have found expression in English 
words, they would have taken shape somewhat as follows : — 

“ That lubberly nigger,” (we are pursuing the train of re- 
flections that passed through the mind of the Arab sheik,) 
‘‘ old Nick burn him ! — thinks I Ve got more than my share 
of this lucky windfall. He wants these boys bad, — I know 
that. The Sultan of Timbuctoo has given him a commis- 


A SQUABBLE BETWEEN THE SHEIKS. 


137 


sion to procure white slaves, — that’s clear ; and hoy slaves 
it he can, — that ’s equally certain. This lot would suit him 
to a T. I can tell that he don’t care much for the old salt 
he has tricked me out of by his superior skill at that silly 
game of helga. No ; His Majesty of the mud-walled city 
don’t want such as him. It ’s boys he ’s after, — as can wait 
smartly at his royal table, and give eclat to his ceremonial 
entertainments. Well, he can have these three at a priced 
“ Ay, but a big price,” continued the cunning old trafficker 
in human flesh, after a short reflection, “ a wopping big 
price. The togs we ’ve stripped from them were no common 
clothing. Good broadcloth in their jackets, and bullion 
bands on their caps. They must be the sons of great 
sheiks. At Wedmoon the old Jew will redeem them. So, 
too, the merchants at Suse ; or maybe I had best take them 
on to Mogador, where the consul of their country will come 
down handsomely for such as they. Yes, that ’s the trick ! ” 
At this parting scene the thoughts of Fatima’s husband 
were equally occupied with trading speculations, in which he 
was assisted by the amiable Fatima herself. 

Translated also into English, they would have read as 
follows : — 

“ The Sultan would give threescore of his best blacks for 
those three tripe-colored brats.” 

“ I know it. Fatty dear ; he ’s told me so himself.” 

“ Then why not get them, and bring ’em along ? ” 

“ Ah, that ’s easy to say. How can I ? You know they 
belong to the old Arab by right, •— at least, he claims them, 
though not very fairly, for if we had n’t come up in good time 
they would have taken him instead of his taking them ; no 
matter for that, they ’re his now by the laws of the Saara. 

“ Bother the laws of the Saara ! ” exclaimed Fatima, with 
a disdainful toss of her head, and a scornful turning up of 
her two protruding teeth ; “ all stuff and nonsense ! There ’a 
no law in the Saiira ; and if there was, you know we ’re 


138 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


never coming into it again. The price you ’d get for those 
three hobbledehoys would keep us comfortable for the bal- 
ance of our lives ; and we need never track the Devil’s Des- 
ert again. Take ’em by force from old Yellow-face, if you 
can ’t get ’em otherwise ; but you may ‘ chouse ’ him out of 
them at a game of helga^ — you know you can beat him at 
that. If he won ’t play again, try your hand at bargaining 
against your blacks ; offer him two to one.” 

Thus counselled by the partner of his bosom, the black 
sheik, instead of bidding the saleik ahum to his Arab con- 
frere^ raised his voice aloud, and demanded from the latte? a 
parley upon business of importance. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

THE TRIO STAKED. 

T he parley that followed was of course unintelligible 
to our adventurers, the Boy Slaves, 

But although they did not understand the words that 
were exchanged between the two sheiks, they were not 
without having a conjecture as to their import. The ges- 
tures made by the two men, and their looks cast frequently 
towards themselves, led them to believe that the conversa- 
tion related to their transference from one to the other. 

There was not much to choose between the two masters. 
Both appeared to be unfeeling savages, and so far had 
treated their captives with much cruelty. They could only 
hope, in case of a transfer taking place, that it would not be 
partial, but would extend to the trio, and that they would 
be kept together. They had been already aware that old 
Bill was to be parted from them, and this had caused them 


THE TRIO STAKED. 


139 


ft painful feeling; but to be themselves sepaiated, per- 
haps never to meet again, was a thought still more dis- 
tressing. 

The three youths had long been shipmates, — ever since 
entering the naval service of their country. They had be- 
come fast friends ; and believed that whatever might be the 
fate before them, they could better bear it in each other’s 
company. Companionship would at least enable them to 
cheer one another ; mutual sympathy would, to some extent, 
alleviate the hardest lot ; while alone, and under such cruel 
taskmasters, the prospect was gloomy in the extreme. 

With feelings of keen anxiety, therefore, did they listen 
to the palaver,, and watch the countenances of their captors. 

After a full half-hour spent in loud talking and gesticulat- 
ing, some arrangement appeared to have been arrived at be- 
tween the two sheiks. Those most interested in it could 
only guess what it was by what followed. 

Silence having been partially restored, the old Arab was 
seen to step up to the spot where the slaves of the black 
sheik were assembled ; and, after carefully scrutinizing them, 
pick out three of the stoutest, plumpest, and healthiest young 
negroes in the gang. These were separated from the others, 
and placed on the plain some distance apart. 

“We’re to be exchanged,” muttered Terence, “we’re to 
belong to the ugly black nagur. Well, perhaps it’s better. 
We ’ll be with old Bill.” 

“Stay a wee,” said Colin; “there’s something more to 
come yet, I think.” 

The black sheik at this moment coming up, interrupted 
the conversation of the captives. 

What was he going to do ? Take them with him, they 
supposed. The old Arab had himself led out the three 
young “darkies”; and the** black sheik was about to act 
in like manner with the trio of white captives. 

So reasoned they ; and, as it was a matter of indifference 


140 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


to them with which they went, they would offer no oppo* 
eition. 

To their chagrin, however, instead of all three, only one 
of them was led off ; the other two being commanded by ges- 
tures to keep their ground. 

It was O’Connor to whom this partiality was shown ; tho 
black sheik having selected him after a short while spent in 
scrutinizing and comparing the three. The Irish youth was 
of stouter build than either of his shipmates ; and this, per- 
haps, guided the black sheik in making his choice. By all 
appearances, the conditions of the exchange were to be dif- 
ferent from what our adventurers had anticipated. It was 
not to be man for man, or boy for boy ; but three for one, — 
three blacks to a white. 

This was, in reality, the terms that had been agreed up- 
on. The avaricious old Arab, not caring very much to part 
with his share of the spoil, would not take less than three 
to one ; and to this the black sheik, after long and loud bar- 
gaining, had consented. 

Terence was led up, and placed alongside the three 
young darkies, who, instead of taking things as seriously as 
he, were exhibiting their ivories in broad grins of laughter, 
as if the disposal of their persons was an affair to be treated 
only as a joke ! 

Our adventurers were now apprehensive that they were 
to be separated. Their only hope was that the bargaining 
would not end there ; but would extend to a further exchange 
of six blacks for the two remaining whites. 

Their conjectures were interrupted by their seeing that 
the ‘‘ swop ” was not yet considered complete. 

What followed, in fact, showed them that it was not a 
regular trade at all ; but a little bit of gambling between the 
two sheiks, in which Terence and the three young blacks 
were to be the respective stakes. 

Old Bill was able to explain the proceedings, from his ex- 


THE TRIO STAKED. 


141 


perlence of the preceding night; and as he saw the two 
sheiks repair to the place where his own proprietorship had 
been decided, he cried out : — 

“ Yere goin* to be gambled for, Masther Terry ! Och ! 
ye’ll be along wid me, — for the black can bate the owld 
Arab at that game, all hollow.” 

The holes in which the helga had been played on the pre- 
ceding night were now resorted to. The proper number of 
dung pellets were procured, and the game proceeded. 

It ended as the old man-o’-war’s-man had prognosticated, 
by the black sheik becoming the winner and owner of Ter- 
ence O’Connor. 

The Arab appeared sadly chagrined, and by the way in 
which he strutted and stormed over the ground, it was evi- 
dent he would not rest satisfied with his loss. When did 
gamester ever leave gaming-table so long as a stake was left 
him to continue the play ? 

Two of the midshipmen still belonged to the old sheik. 
With these he might obtain a revanche. He made the trial. 
He was unfortunate, as before. Either the luck was against 
him, or he was no match at “ desert draughts ” for his sable 
antagonist. 

It ended in the black sheik becoming the owner of the 
three midshipmen, who, restored to the companionship of 
Sailor Bill, in less than twenty minutes after the conclusion 
of the game, were trudging it across the desert in the di- 
rection of Timbuctool 


142 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

GOLAH. 

I N llieir journey over the sea of sand, our four adven- 
turers formed part of a company of sixteen men and 
women, along with six or seven children. 

All were the property of one man, — the huge and dusky 
sheik who had won Sailor Bill and the three middies at 
‘‘ desert draughts.” 

It soon became known to his white captives that his name 
was Golah, a name which Terence suggested might probably 
be an African abbreviation of the ancient name of Goliah. 

Golah was certainly a great man, — not in bone and flesh 
alone, but in intellect as well. 

We do not claim for him the gigantic mind that by arrang- 
ing a few figures and symbols, by the light of a lamp in a 
garret, could discover a new planet in the solar system, and 
give its dimensions, weight, and distance from the dome of 
St. Paul’s. Neither do we claim that the power of his in- 
tellect, if put forth in a storjn of eloquence, could move the 
masses of his fellow-creatures, as a hurricane stirs up the 
waters of the sea ; yet for all this Golah had a great intel- 
lect. He was born to rule, and not a particle of all the pro- 
pensities and sentiments constituting his mind was ever in- 
tended to yield to the will of another. 

The cunning old sheik, who had the first claim to the 
three mids, had been anxious to retain them ; but they were 
also wanted by Golah, and the Arab was compelled to give 
them up, after having been fairly beaten at the game ; part- 
ing with his sable competitor in a mood that was anything 
but agreeable. 

The black sheik had three wives, all of whom possessed 
the gift of eloquence in a high degree. 


AN unpleasant journey. 









fcj i 



i :> 



. : '/.ii . ii> 










GOLAH. 


143 


For all thib a simple glance from him was enough to stop 
any one of them in the middle of a monosyllable. 

Even F atima, the favorite, owed much of her influence to 
the ability she displayed in studying her lord’s wishes to the 
neglect of her own. 

Golah had seven camels, four of which were required for 
carrying himself and his wives, with their children, trap- 
pings, tent utensils, and tents. 

The three other camels were laden with the spoils which 
had been collected from the wreck. 

Twelve of the sixteen adults in the company were com- 
pelled to walk, being forced to keep up with the camels the 
best way they could. 

One of these was Golah’s son, a youth about eighteen 
years of age. He was armed with a long Moorish musket, 
a heavy Spanish sword, and the dirk that had been taken 
from Colin. 

He was the principal guard over the slaves, in which duty 
he was assisted by another youth, whom our adventurers 
afterwards learnt was a brother of one of Golah’s wives. 

This second youth was armed with a musket and scimitar, 
and both he and Golah’s son seemed to think that their lives 
depended on keeping a constant watch over the ten slaves ; 
for there were six others besides Sailor Bill and his young 
companions. They had all been captured, purchased, or 
won at play, during Golah’s present expedition, and were 
now on the way to some southern market. 

Two of the six were pronounced by Sailor Bill to be 
Kroomen, — a race of Africans with whose appearance he 
was somewhat familiar, having often seen them acting as 
sailors in ships coming from the African coast. 

The other slaves were much lighter in complexion, and 
by the old man-o’-war’s-man were called “ Portugee blacks.’* 
All had the appearance of having spent some time in bond- 
age on the great Saara. 


144 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


On the first day of their journey the white captives had 
learnt the relations existing between the majority of the 
company and the chief Golah ; and each of them felt shame 
as well as indignation at the humiliating position in which 
he was placed. 

Those feelings were partly excited and greatly strength- 
ened by hunger and thirst, as well as by the painful toil they 
had to undergo in dragging themselves over the sandy plain 
beneath a scorching sun. 

“ I have had enough of this,” said Harry Blount to his 
companions. “We might be able to stand it several days 
longer, but I \e no curiosity to learn whether we can or 
not.” 

“ Go on ! you are thinking and speaking for me, Harry,” 
said Terence. 

“There are four of us,” continued Harry, — “four of 
that nation whose people boast they never will be slaves ; be- 
sides, there are six others, who are our fellow-bondsmen. 
They Ve not much to look at, but still they might count for 
something in a row. Shall we four British tars, belong to 
a party of ten, — all enslaved by three men, — black men 
at that?” 

“ That just what I Ve been thinking about for the last 
hour or two,” said Terence. “ If we don’t kill old Golah, 
and ride off with his camels, we deserve to pass every day 
of our lives as we ’re doing this one — in slavery.” 

“Just say the word, — when and how,” cried Harry. 
“ I ’m waiting. There are seven camels. Let us each take 
one ; but before we go we must eat and drink the other three. 
I ’m starving.” 

“ Pitch on a plan, and I ’ll pitch into it,” rejoined Terence. 
“ I ’m ready for anything, — from pitch and toss up to man- 
slaughter.” 

“ Stay, Master Terence,” interrupted the old sailor. “ Av 
coorse ye are afther wantin’ to do somethin’, an’ tliin to think 


GOLAH. 


145 


afther wards why ye did it. Any, my lad, yer half out o 
yer mind. Master Colin be the only yin o’ ye that keeps 
his seven senses about him. Suppose all av ye, that the 
big chief was dead, an’ that his son was not alive, and that 
the other nager was a ristin’ quietly wid his black heels 
turned from the place where the daisies bought to grow, — 
what should we do thin? We ’ave neyther chart nor com- 
pass. We could’ner mak oot our reckonin’. Don’t ye see a 
voyage here is just like one at sea, only it be just the re- 
varse. When men are starvin’ at sea, they want to find 
land, but when they are starvin’ in the desert they want to 
find water. The big nager, our captain, can navigate this 
sea in safety, — we can’t. We must let him take us to some 
port and then do the best we can to escape from him.” 

“ You are quite right,” said Colin, “ in thinking that we 
might be un^le to find our way from one watering-place to 
another ; but it is well for us to calculate all the chances. 
After reaching some port^ as you call it, may we not find 
ourselves in a position more difficult to escape from, — where 
we will have to contend with a hundred or more of these 
negro brutes in place of only three ? ” 

“ That ’s vary likely,” answered the sailor ; “ but they ’re 
only men, and we ’av a chance of heatin’ ’em. We may 
fight with men, and conquer ’em, an’ we may fight with wa- 
ter an’ conquer that ; but when we fight against no water 
that will conquer us. Natur is sure to win.” 

“ Bill ’s right there,” said Terence, “ and I feel that Nature 
is getting the best of me already.” 

While they were holding this conversation, they noticed 
that one of the Kroomen kept near them, and seemed lis- 
tening to all that was said. His sparkling eyes betrayed the 
greatest interest. 

“ Do you understand us ? ” asked old Bill, turning sharply 
towards the African, and speaking in an angry tone. 

“ Yus, sa, — a lilly bit,” answered the Krooman, without 

7 J 


146 


THE 60T SLAVES. 


Beeming to notice the unpleasant manner in which the ques 
' tion had been put, 

“ And what are you listening for ? ” 

“ To hear what you tell um. I like go in Ingleesh ship. 
You talk good for me. I go long with you.” 

With some difficulty the sailor and his companions could 
comprehend the Krooman’s gibberish. They managed to 
learn from him that he had once been in an English ship, 
and had made a voyage along the African coast, trading for 
palm-oil. While on board he had picked up a smattering 
of English. He was afterwards shipwrecked in a Portu- 
guese brig. Cast away on the shores of the Saara, just as 
our adventurers had been, and had passed four years in the 
desert, — a slave to its denizens. 

He gratified our adventurers by telling them that they 
were in no danger of having to endure a prolonged period of 
captivity, as they would soon be sold into liberty, instead of 
slavery. Golah could not afford to keep slaves ; and was 
only a kidnapper and dealer in the article. He would sell 
them to the highest bidder, and that would be some English 
consul on the coast. 

The Krooman said there was no such hope for him and 
his companions, for their country did not redeem its subjects 
from slavery. 

When he saw that Golah had obtained some English 
prisoners, he had been cheered with the hope that he might 
be redeemed along with them, as an English subject, to 
which right he had some claim from having served on an 
English ship ! 

During the day the black slaves — well knowing the duty 
they were expected to perform, had been gathering pieces 
of dried camels’ dung along the way ; this was to supply 
fuel for the fire of the douar at night. 

Soon after sunset Golah ordered a halt, when the cameli 
were unloaded, and the tents set up. 


A DAY OF AGONY. 


147 


About one quarter the quantity of sangleh that each re- 
quired, was then served out to the slaves for their dinner, 
and as they had eaten nothing since morning, this article of 
food appeared to have greatly improved, both in appearance 
and flavor. To the palate of our adventurers it seemed de- 
licious. 

Golah, after examining his human property, and evidently 
satisfled with the condition of all, retired to his tent ; from 
which soon after issued sounds that resembled a distant 
thunder-storm. 

The black sheik was snoring ! 

The two young men — his son and brother-in-law — re- 
lieved each other during the night in keeping watch over 
the slaves. 

Their vigil was altogether unnecessary. Weak, and ex- 
hausted with hunger and fatigue, the thoughts of the cap- 
tives were not of the future, but of present repose ; which 
was eagerly sought, and readily found, by all four of them. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

A DAT OF AGONY. 

A n hour before sunrise the next morning, the slaves 
were given some cheni to drink, and then started on 
their journey. 

The sun, as it soared up into a cloudless sky, shot forth 
its rays much warmer than upon the day before, while not a 
breath of air fanned the sterile plain. The atmosphere was 
as hot and motionless as the sands under their feet. They 
were no longer hungry. Thirst — raging, burning thirst — • 
extinguished or deadened every other sensation. 


148 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Streams of perspiration poured from their bodies, as they 
struggled through the yielding sand ; yet, with all this 
moisture streaming from every pore, their throats, tongues, 
and lips became so parched that any attempt on their part 
to hold converse only resulted in producing a series of sounds 
that resembled a death-rattle. 

Golah, with his family, rode in the advance, and seemed 
not to give himself any concern whether he was followed by 
others or not. His two relatives brought up the rear of the 
hafila^ and any of the slaves exhibiting a disposition to lag 
behind was admonished to move on with blows administered 
by a thick stick. 

“ Tell them I must have water or die,” muttered Harry 
to the Krooman in a hoarse whisper. “ I am worth money, 
and if old Golah lets me die for want of a drop of water, 
he ’s a fool.” 

The Krooman refused to make the communication — which 
he declared would only result in bringing ill treatment upon 
himself. 

Colin appealed to Golah’s son, and by signs gave him to 
understand that they must have water. The young black, in 
answer, simply condescended to sneer at him. He was not 
suffering himself, and could have no sympathy for another. 

The hides of the blacks, besmeared with oil, seemed to re- 
pel the scorching beams of the sun ; and years of continual 
practice had no doubt inured them to the endurance of hun- 
ger and thirst to a surprising degree. To their white fel- 
low-captives they appeared more like huge reptiles than 
human beings. 

The sand along the route on this, the second day, was less 
compact than before, and the task of leg-lifting, produced a 
weariness such as might have arisen from the hardest work. 
Added to the agony of their thirst, the white sufferers dwelt 
frequently on thoughts of death — that great antidote to hu- 
man miseries ; yet so constrained were their actions by force 


A DAY OF AGONY. 


149 


of circumstances, that only by following their leader and 
owner, Golah, could they hope to find relief. 

Had he allowed them to turn back to the coast, whence 
they had started, or even to repose for a few hours on the 
way, they could not have done so. They were compelled 
to move on, by a power that could not be resisted. 

That power was Hope, — the hope of obtaining some 
sangleh and a little dirty water. 

To turn back, or to linger behind, would bring them noth- 
ing but more suffering, — perhaps death itself. 

A man intent on dying may throw himself into the water 
to get drowned, and then find himself involuntarily strug- 
gling to escape from the death he has courted. 

The same irresistible antipathy to death compelled his 
white captives to follow the black sheik. 

They were unwilling to die, — not for the sole reason that 
they had homes and friends they wished to see again, — not 
solely for that innate love of life, implanted by Nature in 
the breasts of all; but there was a pleasure which they 
desired to experience once more, — aye, yearned to indulge 
in it: the pleasure of quenching their terrible thirst. To 
gratify this pleasure they must follow Golah. 

One of Golah’s wives had three children; and, as each 
wife was obliged to look after her own offspring, this woman 
could not pursue her journey without a little more trouble 
than her less favored companions. 

The eldest of her children was too young to walk a long 
distance ; and, most of the time, was carried under her care 
upon the maherry. Having her three restless imps, to keep 
balanced upon the back of the camel, requiring her constant 
vigilance to prevent them from falling off*, she found her 
hands full enough. It was a sort of travelling that did not 
at all suit her ; and she had been casting about for some way 
of being relieved from at least a portion of her trouble. 

The plan she devised was to compel some one of the 


150 


THE BOY SLAVES 


slaves to carry her eldest child, a boy about four years oi 
age. 

Colin was the victim selected for this duty. All the at- 
tempts made by the young Scotchman to avoid the responsi- 
bilities thus imposed upon him proved vain. The woman 
was resolute, and Colin had to yield ; although he resisted 
until she threatened to call Golah to her assistance. 

This argument was conclusive ; and the young darkey 
was placed upon Colin’s shoulders, with its legs around his 
neck, and one of its hands grasping him tightly by the hair. 

When this arrangement was completed, night had drawn 
near ; and the two young men who acted as guards hastened 
forward to select a place for the douar. 

There was no danger of any of the slaves making an at- 
tempt to escape; for all were too anxious to receive the 
small quantity of food that was to be allowed them at the 
night halt. 

Encumbered with the “piccaninny,” and wearied with the 
long, ceaseless struggle through the sand, Colin lingered be- 
hind his companions. The mother of the child, apparently 
attentive to the welfare of her first-born, checked the pro- 
gress of her maherry, and rode back to him. 

After the camels had been unloaded, and the tents pitched, 
Golah superintended the serving out of their suppers, which 
consisted only of sangleh. The quantity was even less than 
had been given the evening before ; but it was devoured by 
the white captives with a pleasure none of them had hith- 
erto experienced. 

Sailor Bill declared that the brief time in which he was 
employed in consuming the few mouthfuls allowed him, was 
a moment of enjoyment that repaid him for all the sufferings 
of the day. 

“Ah, Master Arry ! ” said he, “ it ’s only now we are lam- 
in’ to live, although I did think, one time to-day, we was just 
lamin’ to die. I never mean to eat again until I ’m hungry. 


A DAY OF AGONY. 


151 


Alaster Terry,” he added, turning to the young Irishman, 
“ is n’t this foine livin’ intirely ? and are yez not afther bein’ 
happy ? ” 

“ ’T is the most delicious food man ever ate,” answered 
Terence, “ and the only fault I can find is that there is not 
enough of it.” 

Then you may have what is left of mine,” said Colin, 
“ for I can’t say that I fancy it.” 

Harry, Terence, and the sailor gazed at the young Scotch- 
man with expressions of mingled alarm and surprise. Small 
as had been the amount of sangleh with which Colin had 
been served, he had not eaten more than one half of it. 

“ Why, puir Maister Colly, what is wrang wi’ ye ? ” ex- 
claimed Bill, in a tone expressing fear and pity. “If yo 
dinna eat, mon, ye ’ll dee.” 

“ I ’m quite well,” answered Colin, “ but I have had plenty, 
and any of you can take what is left.” 

Though the hunger of Colin’s three companions was not 
half satisfied, they all refused to finish the remainder of his 
supper, hoping that he might soon find his appetite, and eat 
it himself. 

The pleasure they had enjoyed in eating the small allow- 
ance given them rendered it difficult for them to account for 
the conduct of their companion. His abstemiousness caused 
them uneasiness, even alarm. 


152 


THE BOY SLAVES 


CHAPTER XLV. 

COLIN IN LUCK. 

T he next morning, when the caravan started, Colin 
again had the care of the young black. He did not 
always have to carry him, as part of the time the boy trotted 
along by his side. 

During the fore-part of the day, the young Scotchman 
with his charge easily kept up with his companions, and 
some of the time might be seen a little in advance of them. 
His kind attentions to the boy were observed by Golah, who 
showed some sign of human feeling, by exhibiting a contor- 
tion of his features intended for a smile. 

Towards noon, Colin appeared to become fatigued with 
the toil of the journey, and then fell back to the rear, as he 
had done the evening before. Again the anxious mother, 
ever mindful of the welfare of her offspring, was seen to 
check her camel, and wait until Colin and the boy overtook 
her. 

Sailor Bill had been much surprised at Coliffs conduct 
the evening before, especially at the patient manner in 
which the youth had submitted to the task of looking after 
the child. There was a mystery in the young Scotchman’s 
behavior he could not comprehend, — a mystery that soon 
became more profound. It had also attracted the attention 
of Harry and Terence, notwithstanding the many unpleas- 
ant circumstances of the journey calculated to abstract their 
thoughts from him and his charge. 

Shortly after noon, the woman was seen driving Colin up 
to the kajila, urging him forward with loud screams, and 
blows administered with the knotted end of the rope by 
which she guided her maherry. 

After ? time Golah, apparently annoyed by her shrill, 


COLIN IN LUCK. 


153 


scolding voice, ordered her to desist, and permit the slave to 
continue his journey in peace. 

Although unable to understand the meaning of her words, 
Colin must have known that the woman was not using terms 
of endearment. 

The screaming, angry tone, and the blows of the rope, 
might have told him this ; and yet he submitted to her re- 
proaches and chastisements with a meekness and a philo- 
sophic resignation which surprised his companions. 

When his thoughts were not too much absorbed by pain- 
ful reveries over the desire for food and water, Harry en- 
deavored to converse with the Krooman already mentioned. 
He now applied to the man for an interpretation of the 
words so loudly vociferated by the angry negress, and 
launched upon the head of the patient young Scotchman. 

The Krooman said that she had called the lad a lazy pig, 
a Christian dog, and an unbelieving fool; and that she 
threatened to kill him unless he kept up with the hafila. 

On the third day of their journeying, it chanced not to be 
quite so hot as on the one preceding it ; and consequently 
the sufferings of the slaves, especially from thirst, were some- 
what less severe. 

“ I shall never endure such agony again,” said Harry, 
speaking of his experience of the previous day. “ Perhaps 
I may die for the want of water, and on this desert ; but I 
can never suffer so much real pain a second time.” 

“ ’Ow is that, Master Arry ? ” asked Bill. 

“Because I cannot forget, after my experience of last 
night, that the greater the desire for water, the more pleas- 
ure there is in gratifying it ; and the anticipation of such hap- 
piness will go far to alleviate anything I may hereafter feel.” 

“ Well, there be summat in that, for sartin,” answered the 
sailor, “ for I can’t ’elp th inkin’ about ’ow nice our supper 
was last night, and only ’ope it will taste as well to-night 
again.” 




154 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


“ We have learnt something new,” said Terence, ‘‘ new, at 
least, to me ; and I shall know how to live when I get 
where there is plenty. Heretofore I have been like a child 
— eating and drinking half my time, not because I required 
it, but because I knew no better. There is Colly, now, he 
don’t seem to appreciate the beauty of this Arabian style of 
living ; or he may understand it better than we. Perhaps 
he is waiting until he acquires a better appetite, so that he 
may have all the more pleasure in gratifying it. Where is 
he now?” 

They all looked about. They saw that Colin had once 
more fallen behind ; and that the mother of the child was 
again waiting for him. 

Harry and Terence walked on, expecting that they would 
soon see their companion rudely driven up by the angry 
negress. 

Sailor Bill stopped, as though he was interested in being 
a witness to the scene thus anticipated. 

In a few minutes after, the young Scotchman, with the 
child, was hurried forward by the enraged hag — who once 
more seemed in a great rage at his inability or unwillingness 
to keep up with the others. 

“ I ken it ’a noo,” said Bill, after he had stood for some 
time witnessing the ill-treatment heaped upon Colin. 

Our freen Colly ’s in luck. I ’ve no langer any wonder 
at his taking a’ this tribble wi’ the blackey bairn.” 

“ What is it. Bill ? what have you learnt now ? ” asked 
Terence and Harry in a breath. 

“ I ’ve larnt why Colly could not eat his dinner yester- 
day.” 

“ Well, why was it ? ” 

“ I ’ve larnt that the nager’s anger with Colly is all a 
pretince, an’ that she ’s an old she schemer.” 

“ Nonsense, Bill ; that is all a fancy of yours,” said Colin, 
who, with the child on his shoulders, was now walking aloug- 
side his companions. 


SAILOR BILL’S EXPERIMENT. 


155 


“ It is no fancy of mine, mon,” answered Bill, “ but a fan- 
cy o’ the woman for a bra’ fair luddie. What is it that she 
gives you to eat, Maister Colly ? ” 

Seeing that it was idle to conceal his good fortune any 
longer, Colin now confessed it, — informing them that the 
woman, whenever she could do so without being seen, had 
given him a handful of dried figs, with a drink of camel’s 
milk from a leathern bottle which she carried under her 
cloak. 

Notwithstanding the opinion they had just expressed, on 
the enjoyment attending prolonged thirst and hunger, Colin’s 
companions congratulated him on his good fortune, — one and 
all declaring their willingness to take charge of the little 
darkey, on the condition of being similarly rewarded. 

They had no suspicion at that moment that their opinions 
might soon undergo a change ; and that Colin’s supposed 
good fortune would ere long become a source of much unea- 
siness to all of them. 


CHAPTER XLVI 


SAILOR BILL S EXPERIMENT. 


HE afternoon of this day was very warm, yet Golah 



± rode on at such a quick pace, that it required the ut- 
most exertion of the slaves to keep up with him. 

This manner of travelling, under the circumstances in 
ivhich he was required to pursue it, proved too severe for 
Sailor Bill to endure with any degree of patience. 

He became unable, as he thought, to walk any farther ; 
or, if not wholly unable, he was certainly unwilling, and he 
therefore sat down. 


156 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


A heavy shower of blows produced no effect in moving 
him from the spot where he had seated himself, and the two 
young men who acted as guards, not knowing what else to 
do, and having exhausted all their arguments, accompanied 
by a series of kicks, at length appealed to Golah. 

The sheik instantly turned his maherry, and rode back. 

Before he had reached the place, however, the three mids 
had used all their influence in an endeavor to get their old 
companion to move on. In this they had been joined by 
the Krooman, who entreated Bill, if he placed any value on 
his life, to get up before Golah should arrive, for he declared 
the monster would show him no mercy. 

‘‘For God’s sake,” exclaimed Harry Blount, “if it is 
possible for you to get up and go a little way farther, do 
80 .” 

“ Try to move on, man,” said Terence, “ and we will help 
you. Come, Bill, for the sake of your friends try to get up. 
Golah is close by.” 

While thus speaking, Terence, assisted by Colin, took 
hold of Bill and tried to drag him to his feet ; but the old 
sailor obstinately persisted in remaining upon the ground. 

“ Perhaps I could walk on a bit farther,” said he, “ but I 
won’t. I ’ve ’ad enough on it. I ’m goin’ to ride, and let 
Golah walk awhile. He ’s better able to do it than I am. 
Now don’t you boys be so foolish as to get yersels into 
trouble on my account. All ye ’ve got to do is to look on, 
an’ ye ’ll larn somethin’. If I ’ve no youth an’ beauty;^ like 
Colly, to bring me good luck, I ’ve age and experience, and 
I ’ll get it by schamin’.” 

On reaching the place where the sailor was sitting, Golah 
was informed of what had caused the delay, and that the 
usual remedy had failed of effect. 

He did not seem displeased at the communication. On 
the contrary, his huge features bore an expression that for 
him might have been considered pleasant. 


SAILOR BILL’S EXPERIMENT. 


157 


He quietly ordered the slave to get up, and pursue his 
journey. 

The weary sailor had blistered feet ; and, with his strength 
almost exhausted by hunger and thirst, had reached the 
point of desperation. Moreover, for the benefit of himself 
and his young companions, he wished to try an experiment. 

He told the Krooman to inform the sheik that he would 
go on, if allowed to ride one of the camels. 

“ You want me to kill you ? ” exclaimed Golah, when this 
communication was made to him ; “ you want to cheat me 
out of the price I have paid for you ; but you shall not. 
You must go on. I, Golah, have said it.” 

The sailor, in reply, swore there was no possible chance 
for them to take him any farther, without allowing him to ride. 

This answer to the sheik’s civil request was communicated 
by the Krooman ; and, for a moment, Golah seemed puz- 
zled as to how he should act. 

He would not kill the slave after saying that he must go 
on ; nor would he have him carried, since the man would 
then gain his point. 

He stood for a minute meditating on what was to he done. 
Then a hideous smile stole over his features. He had mas- 
tered the difficulty. 

Taking its halter from the camel, he fastened one end of 
it to the saddle, and the other around the wrists of the sailor. 
I*oor old Bill made resistance to being thus bound, but he 
was like an infant in the powerful grasp of the black sheik. 

The son and brother-in-law of Golah stood by with their 
muskets on full cock, and the first move any of Bill’s com- 
panions could have made to assist him, would have been a 
signal for them to fire. 

When the fastenings were completed, the sheik ordered 
his son to lead the camel forward, and the sailor, suddenly 
jerked from his attitude of repose, was rudely dragged on- 
ward over the sand. 


158 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


“ Vou are going now ! ” exclaimed Golah, nearly frantia 
with delight ; and we are not carrying you, are we ? Nei- 
ther are you riding ? Bismillah ! I am your master ! ” 

The torture of travelling in this manner was too great to 
be long endured, and Bill had to take to his feet and walk 
forward as before. He was conquered; but as a punish- 
ment for the trouble he had caused, the shiek kept him 
towing at the tail of the camel for the remainder of that 
day’s journey. 

Any one of the white slaves would once have thought 
that he possessed too much spirit to allow himself or a friend 
to be subjected to such treatment as Bill had that day en- 
dured. 

None of them was deficient in true courage ; yet the 
proud spirit, of which each had once thought himself pos- 
sessed, was now subdued by a power to which, if it be prop- 
erly applied, all animate things must yield. 

That power was the feeling of hunger ; and there is no 
creature so wild and fierce but will tamely submit to the 
dominion of the man who commands it. It is a power that 
must be used with discretion, or the victims to it, urged by 
desperation, may destroy their keeper. Golah had the wis- 
dom to wield it with effect ; for by it, with the assistance of 
two striplings, he easily controlled those who, under other 
circumstances, would have claimed the right to be free. 


AN UNJUST REWARD. 


159 


CHAPTER XLVII 

AN UNJUST REWARD. 

T he next morning on resuming the journey Golah con- 
descended to tell his captives that they should reach a 
well or spring that afternoon, and stay by it for two or three 
days. 

This news was conveyed to Harry by the Krooman ; and 
all were elated at the prospect of rest, with a plentiful sup- 
ply of water. 

Harry had a long conversation with the Krooman as they 
were pursuing their route. The latter expressed his surprise 
that the white captives were so contented to go on in the 
course in which the sheik was conducting them. 

This was a subject about which Harry and his companions 
had given themselves no concern ; partly because that they 
had no idea that Golah was intending to make a very long 
journey, and partly that they supposed his intentions, what- 
ever they were, could not be changed by anything they 
might propose. 

The Krooman thought different. He told Harry that the 
route they were following, if continued, would lead them far 
into the interior of the country — probably to Timbuctoo ; 
and that Golah should be entreated to take them to some 
port on the coast, where they might be ransomed by an 
English consul. 

Harry perceived the truth of these suggestions; and, 
after having a conversation with his companions, it was de- 
termined between them that they should have a talk with 
Golah that very night. 

The Krooman promised to act as interpreter, and to do 
all in his power to favor their suit. He might persuade the 
sheik to change his destination, by telling him that he would 


160 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


find a far better market in taking them to some place where 
vessels arrive and depart, than by carrying them into the in- 
terior of the country. 

The man then added, speaking in a mysterious manner, 
that there was one more subject on which he wished to give 
them warning. When pressed to mention it, he appeared 
reluctant to do so. 

He was at last prevailed upon to be more communicative ; 
when he proclaimed his opinion, that their companion, Colin, 
would never leave the desert. 

Why is that ? ” asked Harry. 

“ Bom-by he be kill. De sheik kill um.” 

Although partly surmising his reasons for having formed 
this opinion, Harry urged him to further explain himself. 

Ef Golah see de moder ob de piccaninny gib dat lad one 
lilly fig, — one drop ob drink, he kill um, sartin-sure. I see, 
one, two, — seb’ral more see. Golah no fool. Bom-by 
he see too, and kill um bof, — de lad an’ de piccaninny 
moder.” 

Harry promised to warn his companion of the danger, 
and save him before the suspicions of Golah should be 
aroused. 

“No good, no good,” said the Krooman. 

In explanation of this assertion, Harry was told that, should 
the young Scotchman refuse any favor from the woman, her 
wounded vanity would change her liking to the most bitter 
hatred, and she would then contrive to bring down upon him 
the anger of Golah, — an anger that would certainly be fa- 
tal to its victim. 

“ Then what must I do to save him ? ” asked Harry. 

“ Noting,” answered the Krooman. “ You noting can do. 
Ony bid him be good man, and talk much, — pray to God. 
Golah wife lub him, and he .sure muss die.” 

Harry informed the sailor and Terence of what the 
Krooman had told him, and the three took counsel together. 


AN UNJUST REWARD. 


161 


“ I believes as bow the darkey be right,” said Bill. Of 
course, if the swab Goliarh larns as ’ow one av ’is wives ha’ 
taken a fancy to Master Colly, ’t will be all up wi’ the poor 
lad. He will be killed, — and mayhap eaten too, for that 
matter.” 

“ Like enough,” assented Terence. “ And should he 
scorn her very particular attentions, her resentment might 
be equally as dangerous as Golah’s. I fear poor Colin has 
drifted into trouble.” 

“ What ye be afther sayin’ about the woman,” said Bill, 
*■ minds me o’ a little story I wunce heeard whin I was a 
l>oy. I read it in a book called the Bible. It was about a 
young man, somethin’ like Master Colly, barrin’ his name 
was Joseph. A potter’s wife tuck a fancy to him ; but Jo- 
seph, bein’ a dacent an’ honest youngster, treted her wid 
contimpt, an’ came to great grief by doin’ that same. You 
must ’ave read that story. Master ’Arry,” continued Bill, 
turning from Terence to the young Englishman, and chang- 
ing his style of pronunciation. “ Did it not ’appen summers 
in this part o’ the world ? Hif I remember rightly, it did. 
I know ’t was summers in furrin parts.” 

“ Yes,” answered Harry, “ that little affair did happen in 
this part of the world, — since it was in Africa, — and our 
comrade has a fair prospect of being more unfortunate than 
Joseph. In truth, I don’t see how we shall be able to as- 
sist him.” 

“ There he is, about a hundred cable lengths astern,” said 
Bill, looking back. ‘‘ And there ’s the old ’oman, too, look- 
in’ sharp afther him, while Colly is atin’ the figs and drinkin’ 
the camel’s milk ; and while I ’m dying for a dhrop of that 
same, old Goliarh is no doubt proud wid the great care 
she ’s takin’ of his child. Bud won’t there be a row when 
he larns summat more ? Won’t there. Master ’Arry ?” 

“ There will, indeed,” answered Harry. “ Colin will soon 
be up with us, and we must talk to him.” 

K 


162 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Harry was right, for Colin soon after overtook them, — • 
having been driven up as usual by the negress, who seemed 
in great anger at the trouble he was causing her. 

“ Colin,” said Harry, when their companion and the child 
had joined them, “ you must keep that woman away from 
you. Her partiality for you has already been noticed by 
others. The Krooman has just been telling us that you will 
not live much longer ; that Golah is neither blind nor fool- 
ish ; and that, on the slightest suspicion he has of the womar* 
showing you any favor, — even to giving you a fig, — ho 
will kill you.” 

> “ But what can I do ? ” asked Colin. “ If the woman 
should come to you and offer you a handful of figs and a 
drink of milk, could you refuse them ? ” 

“ No, I certainly could not. I only wish such an alterna- 
tive would present itself ; but you must manage in some 
way or other to keep away from her. You must not linger 
behind, but remain all the time by us.” 

“If you knew,” asked Colin, “that you could quench 
your thirst by lagging a few paces behind, would you not 
do so?” 

“ That would be a strong temptation, and I should proba- 
bly yield ; but I tell you that you are in danger.” 

Neither of Colin’s companions could blame liim. Suffer- 
ing, as he was, from the ceaseless agony of hunger and thirst, 
any indiscretion, or even crime, seemed justifiable, for the 
sake of obtaining relief. 

The day became hotter and hotter, until in the afternoon 
the sufferings of the slaves grew almost unendurable. Sailor 
Bill appeared to be more severely affected than any of his 
companions. Ho had been knocking about the world for 
many long years, injuring his constitution by dissipation and 
exposure in many climes ; and the siege that thirst and hun- 
ger were now making to destroy his strength became each 
hour more perceptible in its effect, 


AN UNJUST REWARD. 


163 


By the middle of the afternoon it was with the utmost 
difficulty he could move along ; and his tongue was so 
parched that in an attempt to speak he wholly failed. His 
hands were stretched forth towards Colin ; who, since the 
warning he had received, had kept up along with the rest. 

Colin understood the signal ; and placed the boy on the 
old man’s shoulders. Bill wished to learn if the mother 
would reward him for taking care of her child, as she had 
his predecessor in the office. To carry out the experiment, 
he allowed himself to be left in the rear of the caravan. 

Golah’s son and the other guard had noticed the old sail- 
or’s suffering condition, and objected to his being incumbered 
with the child. They pointed to Harry and Terence ; but 
Bill was resolute in holding on to his charge ; and cursing 
him for an unbelieving fool, they allowed him to have his 
own way. 

Not long after, the mother of the child was seen to stop 
her camel, and the three mids passed by her unnoticed. The 
old sailor hastened up as fast as his weary limbs would allow 
to receive the hoped-for reward; but the poor fellow was 
doomed to a cruel disappointment. 

When the woman perceived who had been entrusted with 
the carrying of her child, she pronounced two or three 
phrases in a sharp, angry tone. Understanding them, the 
child dismounted from the sailor’s back and ran with all 
speed towards her. 

Bill’s reward was a storm of invectives, accompanied by 
a shower of blows with the knotted end of the halter. He 
strove to avoid the punishment by increasing his speed ; but 
the camel seemed to understand the relative distance that 
should be maintained between its rider and the sailor, so that 
the former might deliver and the latter receive the blows 
w ith the most painful effect. This position it kept until Bill 
had got up to his companions ; his naked shoulders bearing 
crimson evidence of the woman’s ability in the handling of a 
rope’s end. 


164 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


As she rode past Colin, who had again taken charge of 
the child, she gave the young Scotchman a look that seemed 
to say, “ You have betrayed me ! ” and without waiting for 
a look in return, she passed on to join her husband at the 
head of the caravan. 

The black slaves appeared highly amused at the sailor’s 
misfortunes. The incident had aroused their expiring ener- 
gies, and the journey was pursued by them with more ani- 
mation than ever. 

Bill’s disappointment was not without some beneficial 
effect upon himself. He was so much revived by the beat- 
ing, that he soon after recovered his tongue ; and as he 
shuffled on alongside his companions, they could hear him 
muttering curses, some in good English, some in bad, some 
in a rich Irish brogue, and some in the broadest Scotch. 


CHAPTER XLVIII 


THE WATERLESS WELL, 



OLAH expected to reach the watering-place early in 


VJT the evening ; and all the caravan was excited by the 
anticipation of soon obtaining a plentiful supply of water. 

It was well they were inspired by this hope. But for that, 
long before the sun had set. Sailor Bill and three or four 
others would have dropped down in despair, physically un- 
able to have moved any further. But the prospect of plenty 
of water, to be found only a few miles ahead, brought, at the 
same time, resolution, strength, and life. Faint and feeble, 
they struggled on, nearly mad with the agony of nature’s 
fierce demands ; and soon after sunset they succeeded in 
reaching the well. 


THE WATERLESS WELL. 


165 


It was dry ! 

Not a drop of the much desired element was shining in 
the cavity where they had expected to find it. 

Sailor Bill and some of the other slaves sank upon the 
earth, muttering prayers for immediate death. 

Golah was in a great rage with everything, and his wives, 
children, slaves, and camels, that were most familiar with his 
moods, rushed here and there to get out of his way. 

Suddenly he seemed to decide on a course to be taken in 
this terrible emergency, and his anger to some extent sub- 
sided. 

Unbuckling the last goat-skin of water from one of the 
camels, he poured out a small cup for each individual of the 
kajila. Each was then served with a little sangleh and a 
couple of dried figs. 

AU were now ordered to move on towards the west, Golah 
leading the way. The new route was at right angles to the 
course they had been following during the earlier part of the 
day. 

Some of the slaves who declared that they were unable to 
go further, found out, after receiving a few ticklings of the 
stick, that they had been mistaken. The application of Go- 
lah’s cudgel awakened dormant energies of which they had 
not deemed themselves possessed. 

After proceeding about two miles from the scene of their 
disappointment, Golah suddenly stopped, — as he did so, 
giving to his followers some orders in a low tone. 

The camels were immediately brought into a circle, 
forced to kneel down, while their lading was removed from 
them. 

While this was going on, the white captives heard voices, 
and the trampling of horses’ hoofs. 

The black sheik, with his highly educated ear, had de- 
tected the approach of strangers. This had caused him to 
order the halt. 


166 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


When the noises had approached a little nearer, GrolaK 
called out in Arabic : “ Is it peace ? ” 

“It is,” was the answer; and as the strangers drew near- 
er, the salutations of “ Peace be with you ! ” — “ Peace be 
with all here, and with your friends ! ” were exchanged. 

The caravan they had met consisted of between fifteen 
and twenty men, some horses and camels; and the sheik 
who commanded it inquired of Golah from whence he 
came. 

“ From the west,” answered Golah, giving them to 
understand that he was travelling the same way as them- 
selves. 

“ Then why did you not keep on to the weU ? ” was the 
next inquiry. 

“ It is too far away,” answered Golah. “We are very 
weary.” 

“ It is not far,” said the chief, “ not more than half a league. 
You had better go on.” 

“ No. I think it is more than two leagues, and we shall 
wait till morning.” 

We shall not. I know the well is not far away, and we 
shall reach it to-night.” 

“Very well,” said Golah, “go, and may God be with you. 
But stay, masters, have you a camel to sell ? ” 

“ Yes, a good one. It is a little fatigued now, but will be 
strong in the morning.” 

Golah was aware that any camel they would sell him that 
night would be one that could only move with much diffi- 
culty, — one that they despaired of getting any further on 
the way. The black sheik knew his own business best ; 
and was willing they should think they had cheated him in 
the bargain. 

After wrangling for a few minutes, he succeeded in buy- 
ing their camel, — the price being a pair of blankets, a shirt, 
and the dirk that had been taken from Terence, The camel 


THE WATERLESS WELL. 


167 


nad no cargo ; and had for some time been forced onward at 
considerable trouble to its owner. 

The strangers soon took their departure, going off in the 
direction of the dry well. As soon as they were out of sight 
Golah gave orders to reload the animals, and resume the 
interrupted -march. To excite the slaves to a continuance 
of the journey, he promised that the camel he had purchased 
should be slaughtered on the next morning for their break- 
fast ; and that they should have a long rest in the shade of 
the tents during the following day. 

This promise, undoubtedly, had the anticipated effect in 
revivifying their failing energies, and they managed to move 
on until near daybreak, when the camel lately purchased 
laid itself down, and philosophically resisted every attempt 
at compelling it to continue the journey. 

It was worn out with toil and hunger, and could not re- 
cover its feet. 

The other animals were stopped and unladen, the tents 
were pitched, and preparations made for resting throughout 
the day. 

After some dry weeds had been collected for fuel, Golah 
proceeded to fulfil his promise of giving them plenty of food. 

A noose was made at the end of a rope, and placed around 
the camel’s lower jaw. Its head was then screwed about, as 
far as it would reach, and the rope was made fast to the root 
of its tail, — the long neck of the camel allowing its head 
to be brought within a few inches of the place where the 
rope was tied. 

Fatima, the favorite, stood by holding a copper kettle ; 
while Golah opened a vein on the side of the animal’s neck 
near the breastbone. The blood gushed forth in a stream ; 
and before the camel had breathed its last, the vessel held to 
catch it had become filled more than half full. 

The kettle was then placed over the fire, and the blood 
baled and stirred with a stick until it had become as thick 


168 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


as porridge. It was then taken off, and when it had cooled 
down, it resembled, both in color and consistency, the liver 
of a fresh killed bullock. 

This food was divided amongst the slaves, and was greed 
ily devoured by all. 

The heart and liver of the camel, Golah ordered to be 
cooked for his own family ; and what little flesh was on the 
bones, was cut into strips, and hung up in the sun to dry. 

In one portion of the camel’s stomach was about a gallon 
and a half of water, thick and dirty with the vegetation it 
had last consumed ; but all was carefully poured into a goat’s 
skin, and preserved for future use. 

The intestines were also saved, and hung out in the sun 
to get cured by drying, to be afterwards eaten by the 
slaves. 

During the day Harry and Terence asked for an inter 
view with Golah ; and, accompanied by the Krooman, were 
allowed to sit down by the door of his tent while they con- 
versed with him. 

Harry instructed the Krooman to inform their master, 
that if they were taken to some seaport, a higher ransom 
would be paid for them than any price for which they could 
be sold elsewhere. 

Golah’s reply to this information was, that he doubted its 
truth ; that he did not like seaport towns ; that his business lay 
away from the sea ; and that he was anxious to reach Tim- 
buctoo as soon as possible. He further stated, that if all his 
slaves were Christian dogs, who had reached the country in 
ships, it might be worth his while to take them to some port 
where they would be redeemed ; but as the most of them 
were of countries that did not pay ransoms for their sub- 
jects, there would be no use in his carrying them to the 
coast, — where they might escape from him, and he would 
then have had all his trouble for nothino;. 

He was next asked if he would not try to sell the white 


THE WATERLESS WELL. 


169 


captives along with the two Kroomen, to some slave dealer, 
who would take them to the coast for a market. 

Golah would not promise this. He said, that to do so, 
he should have to sell them on the desert, where he could 
not obtain half their value. 

The only information they were able to obtain from him 
was, that they were quite certain of seeing that far-famed 
city, Timbuctoo, — that was if they should prove strong 
enough to endure the hardships of the journey. 

After thanking Golah for his condescension in listening to 
their appeal, the Krooman withdrew, followed by the others, 
who now for the first time began to realize the horror of 
their position. A plentiful supply of food, along with the 
day’s rest, had caused all the white slaves to turn their 
thoughts from the present to the future. 

Harry Blount and Terence, after their interview with 
Golah, found Colin and Sailor Bill anxiously awaiting their 
return. 

" Well, what ’s the news ? ” asked Bill, as they drew 
near. 

“ Very bad,” answered Terence. “ There is no hope for 
us : we are going to Timbuctoo.” 

“ No, I ’m no going there,” said Bill, if it was in another 
world I might see the place soon enough, but in this, niver, 
— niver I ” 


170 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 


THE WELL. 


T an early hour next morning the caravan started on 



its journey, still moving westward. This direction 
Golah was compelled to pursue to obtain a supply of water, 
although it was taking him no nearer his destination. 

Two days’ journey was before them ere they could reach 
another well. While performing it, Golah, vexed at the de- 
lay thus occasioned, was in very ill-humor with things in 
general. 

Some of his displeasure was vented upon the camel he 
was riding, and the animal was usually driven far ahead of 
the others. 

The sheik’s wrath also fell upon his wives for lingering 
behind, and then upon the slaves for not following closer 
upon the heels of his camel. His son, and brother-in-law, 
would at intervals be solemnly cursed in the name of the 
Prophet for not driving the slaves faster. 

Before the well had been reached, the four white slaves 
were in a very wretched condition. Their feet were blis- 
tered and roasted by the hot sand, and as the clothing al- 
lowed them was insufficient protection against the blazing 
sun, their necks and legs were inflamed and bleeding. 

The intestines and most of the flesh of the slaughtered 
camel had been long ago consumed, as well as the filthy 
water taken from its stomach. 

Colin had again established himself m the flavor of the 
sheik’s wife, and was allowed to have the care ‘>f the child ; 
but the little food and drink he received for his attention to 
it were dearly earned. 

The weight of the young negro was a serious incumbrance 
in a weary journey through what seemed to be a burning 


THE WELL. 


171 


plain ; moreover the “ darkey,” in keeping its seat on the 
young Scotchman’s shoulders, had pulled a quantity of hair 
out of his head, besides rendering his scalp exceedingly irri- 
table to further treatment of a like kind. 

Hungry, thirsty, weak, lame, and weary, the wretched 
captives struggled on until the well was reached. 

On arriving within sight of a small hill on which were 
growing two or three sickly bushes, Golah pointed towards 
it, at the same time turning his face to those who were fol- 
lowing him. All understood the signal, and seemed sud- 
denly inspired with hope and happiness. The travellers 
pressed forward with awakened energy, and after passing 
over the hill came in sight of the well at its foot. 

The eagerness exhibited by the slaves to quench their 
thirst might have been amusing to any others tnan those who 
beheld them ; but their master seemed intent on giving them 
a further lesson in the virtue of patience. 

He first ordered the camels to be unladen, and the tents 
to be pitched. While some were doing this, he directed 
others to seek for fuel. 

Meanwhile, he amused himself by collecting all the dishes 
and drinking-vessels, and placing them contiguous to the well. 
' He then attached a rope to a leathern bucket, and, draw- 
ing water from the reservoir, he carefully filled the utensils, 
with the least possible waste of the precious fluid his follow- 
ers were so anxious to obtain. 

When his arrangements were completed, he called his 
wives and children around him. Then, serving out to each 
of them about a pint of the water, and giving them a few 
seconds for swallowing it, he ordered them off. 

Each obeyed without a murmur, all apparently satisfied. 

The slaves were next called up, and then there was a 
rush in real earnest. The vessels were eagerly seized, and 
their contents greedily swallowed. They were presented 
for more, refilled, and again emptied. 


172 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


The quantity of water swallowed by Sailor Bill and his 
three young companions, and the rapacity with which it was 
gulped down, caused Golah to declare that there was but one 
God, that Mahomet was his Prophet, and that four of the 
slaves about him were Christian swine. 

After all had satisfied the demands of nature, Golah 
showed them the quantity of water he deemed sufficient for 
a thirsty individual, by drinking about a pint himself — not 
more than a fifth of the amount consumed by each of his 
white slaves. 

Long years of short allowance had accustomed the negro 
sheik to make shift with a limited allowance of the precious 
commodity, and yet continue strong and active. 

About two hours after they had reached the well, and just 
as they had finished watering the camels, another caravan 
arrived. Its leader was hailed by Golah with the words, 
“ Is it peace ? ” — the usual salutation when strangers meet 
on the desert. 

“ The answer was, “ It is peace ” ; and the new comers 
dismounted, and pitched their camp. 

Next morning Golah had a long talk with their sheik, 
after which he returned to his own tents in much apparent 
uneasiness. 

The caravan newly arrived consisted of eleven men, with 
eight camels and three Saaran horses. The men were all 
Arabs — none of them being slaves. They were well 
armed, and carried no merchandise. They had lately come 
from the northwest, for what purpose Golah knew not: 
since the account the stranger sheik had given of himself 
was not satisfactory. 

Though very short of provisions, Golah resolved not to 
leave the well that day ; and the Krooman learnt that this 
resolution was caused by his fear of the strangers. 

“ If he is afraid of them,” said Harry, “ I should sup- 
pose that would make him all the more anxious to get out 
of thek company.” 


THE WELL. 


173 


The Krooman, in explanation, stated that if the Arabs 
were robbers — pirates of the desert — they would not 
molest Golah so long as he remained at the well. ■ 

“ In this the Krooman was correct. Highway robbers do 
not waylay their victims at an inn, but on the road. Pirates 
do not plunder ships in a harbor, but out on the open ocean. 
Custom, founded on some good purpose, has established a 
similar rule on the great sandy ocean of the Saiira. 

“ I wish they were robbers, and would take us from 
Golah ! ” said Colin. “We should then perhaps be carried 
to the north, where we might be ransomed some time or 
other. As it is, if we are to be taken to Timbuctoo, we 
shall never escape out of Africa.” 

“We shall not be taken there,” cried Terence. “We 
shall turn robbers ourselves first. I will for one ; and when 
I do, Golah shall be robbed of one of his slaves at least.” 

“An* that wan will be Misther Terence O’Connor, ov 
coorse ? ** said Bill. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Thin ye will *ave done no more than Master Colly, who 
has already robbed ’im ov twa — the haffections ov *is wife 
an’ bairn.” 

“ That will do. Bill,” said Colin, who did not like hearing 
any allusion made to the woman. “ We have something 
else that should engage our attention. Since we have learnt 
that they intend taking us to Timbuctoo, it is time we began 
to act. We must not go there.” 

“ That is understood,” said Harry ; “ but what can we 
do ? Something should be done immediately. Every day 
we journey southward carries us farther from home, or the 
chance of ever getting there. Perhaps these Arabs may 
buy us, and take us north. Suppose we get the Krooman 
to speak to them ? ” 

All consented to this course. The Krooman was called , 
and when informed of their wishes he' said that he roust not 


174 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


be seen speaking to the Arabs, or Golah would be dis- 
pleased. He also stated — what the white captives had al- 
ready observed — that Golah and his son were keeping a 
sharp watch over them, as well as over the strangers ; and 
that an opportunity of talking to the Arab sheik might not 
be easily obtained. 

While he was still speaking, the latter was observed pro- 
ceeding towards the well to draw some water. 

The Krooinan instantly arose, and sauntered after. 

He was observed by the quick eye of Golah, who called 
to him to come away ; which he did, but not before quench- 
ing his thirst, that did not appear to be very great. 

On the Krooman’s return from the well, he informed 
Harry that he had spoken to the Arab sheik. He had said, 
“ Buy us. You will get plenty of money for us in Swearah 
and that the reply of the sheik was, “ The white slaves are 
dogs, and not worth buying.” 

“ Then we have no hope from that source ! ” exclaimed 
Terence. 

The Krooman shook his head ; not despondently, but as 
if he did not agree in the opinion Terence had expressed. 

“ What ! do you think there is any hope ? ” asked Harry. 

The man gave a nod of assent. 

“ How ? In what way ? ” 

The Krooman vouchsafed no explanation, but sauntered 
silently away. 

When the sun was within two or three hours of setting 
over the Saara, the Arabs struck their tents, and started off 
in the direction of the dry well — from whence Golah and 
his caravan had just come. After they had disappeared be- 
hind the hill, Golah’s son was sent to its top to watch them, 
while his women and slaves were ordered to strike the tents 
as quickly as possible. 

Then waiting till the shades of night had descended over 
the desert, and the strangers were beyond the reach of 


A MOMENTOUS INQUIRY. 


175 


vision, Golah gave orders to resume the march once more 
in a southeasterly direction — which would carry them 
away from the seacoast — and, as the white slaves believed, 
from all chances of their ever recovering their freedom. 

The Krooman, on the contrary, appeared to be pleased at 
their taking this direction, notwithstanding the objections ha 
had expressed to going inland. 


CHAPTER L. 

A MOMENTOUS INQUIRY. 

D uring the nlghUs journey Golah still seemed to have 
some fear of the Arabs ; and so great was his desire to 
place as much ground as possible between himself and them, 
that he did not halt, until the sun was more than two hours 
above the horizon. 

For some time before a halt had been planned, Fatima, 
his favorite wife, had been riding by his side, and making, 
what seemed, from the excited movements of both, an im- 
portant communication. 

After the tents had been pitched, and food was about be- 
ing served out, Golah commanded the mother of the boy 
carried by Colin to produce the bag of figs that had been 
intrusted to her keeping. 

Trembling with apprehension, the woman rose to obey. 
The Krooman glanced at the white captives with an expres- 
sion of horror ; and although they had not understood Go- 
’ah’s command, they sajv that something was going wrong. 

The woman produced the bag ; which was not quite half 
full. There were in it about two quarts of dried figs. 

The figs that had been served out three days before at tha 


176 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


dry well had been taken from another bag kept in the cus- 
tody of Fatima. 

The one now produced by the second wife should have 
been full : and Golah demanded to know why it was not 

The woman tremblingly asseverated that she and her 
children had eaten them. 

At this confession Fatima uttered a scornful laugh, and 
spoke a few words that increased the terror of the delin- 
quent mother, — at the same time causing the boy to com- 
mence howling with affright 

“I tell you so,^’ said the Krooman, who was standing 
near the white slaves ; “ Fatima say to Golah, ‘ Christian 
dog eat the figs ’ ; Golah kill him now ; he kill da woman 
too.” 

In the opinion of those who travel the great desert, about 
the greatest crime that can be committed is to steal food or 
drink, and consume either unknown to thei^ companions of 
the journey. 

Articles of food intrusted to the care of any one must be 
guarded and preserved, — even at the expense of life. 

Under no circumstances may a morsel be consumed, until 
it is produced in the presence of all, and a division, either 
equitable or otherwise, has been made. 

Even had the story told by the woman been true, her 
crime would have been considered sufficiently great to have 
endangered her life ; but her sin was greater than that. 

She had bestowed favor upon a slave, — a Christian dog, 
— and had aroused the jealousy of her Mahometan lord and 
master. 

Fatima seemed happy; for nothing less than a miracle 
could, in her opinion, save the life of her fellow-wife, who 
chanced to be a hated rival. 

After drawing his scimitar from its sheath, and cocking 
his musket, Golah ordered all the slaves to squat themselves 
on the ground, and in a row. 


A MOMENTOUS INQUIRY. 


177 


This order was quickly comprehended and obeyed, — the 
whites seating themselves together at one end of the line. 

Golah’s son and the other guard — each with his musket 
loaded and cocked — were stationed in front of the row : and 
were ordered by the sheik to shoot any one who attempted 
to get up from the ground. 

The monster then stepped up to Colin, and, seizing the 
young Scotchman by the auburn locks, dragged him a few 
paces apart from his companions. There, for a time, he was 
left alone. 

Golah then proceeded to serve out some cheni to every 
individual on the ground ; but none was given to the woman 
who had aroused his anger, nor to Colin. 

In the sheik’s opinion, to have offered them food would 
have been an act as foolish as to have poured it upon the 
sands. 

Food was intended to sustain life, and it was not designed 
by him that they should live much longer. And yet it was 
evident from his manner that he had not quite determined as 
to how they were to die. 

The two guards, with the muskets in their grasp, kept a 
sharp eye on the slaves, while Golah became engaged in a 
close consultation with Fatima. 

What shall we do ? ” asked Terence ; “ the old villain 
means mischief, and how can we prevent it ? We must not 
let him kill poor Colly ? ” 

“ We must do something immediately,” said Harry. “We 
have neglected it too long, and shall now have to act under 
the disadvantage of their being prepared for an attack. Bill, ^ 
what should we do ? ” 

“ I was just thinking,” said Bill, “ that if we all made a 
rush at ’em, at the words One — two — three ! not more ’n 
two or three of us might be killed afore we grappled with 
’em. Now, this might do, if these black fellows would only 
line us.” 


8 * 


L 


178 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


The Krooman here expressed himself as one T»illing to 
take his chance in any action they should propose, and be- 
lieved that his countrymen would do the same. He feared, 
however, that the other blacks could not be trusted, and that 
any proposal he might make to them would be in a language 
the two guards would understand. 

‘‘ Well, then,” said Harry, “ there will be six of us against 
three. Shall I give the word ? ” 

“All right!” said Terence, drawing his feet under his 
body, by way of preparation for rising suddenly. 

The scheme was a desperate one, but all seemed willing 
to undertake it. 

Since leaving the well, they had felt convinced that life 
and liberty depended on their making a struggle ; though 
circumstances seemed to have forced that struggle upon them 
when there was the least hope of success. 

“ Now all make ready,” muttered Harry, speaking in a 
calm voice, so as not to excite the attention of the guards. 

“ Stop 1” exclaimed Colin, who had been listening atten- 
tively to all that was said. “ I ’m not with you. We should 
all be killed. Two or three would be shot, and the sheik 
himself could finish all the rest with his scimitar. It is bet- 
ter for him to kill me, if he really means to do so, than to 
have all four destroyed in the vain hope of trying to save 
one.” 

“ It is not for you alone that we are going to act,” inter- 
posed Harry. “ It is as much for ourselves.” 

“ Then act when there is a chance of succeeding,” pursued 
Colin. “ You cannot save me, and will only lose your own 
lives.” 

“ De big black sheik am going to kill someb’dy, dat berry 
sure,” said the Krooman, as he sat with his eyes fixed upon 
Golah. 

The latter was still in consultation with Fatima, his face 


A MOMENTOUS INQUIRY. 


179 


wearing an expression that was horrible for all except her- 
self to behold. Murder by excruciating torture seemed 
written on every feature of his countenance. 

The woman, upon whose manner of death they were de- 
liberating, was in the act of caressing her children, appar- 
ently conscious that she had but a few minutes more to re- 
main in their company. Her features wore an expression 
of calm and hopeless resignation, as if she had yielded her- 
self up to the decree of an inevitable fate. 

The third wife had retired a short distance from the others. 
With her child in her arms, she sat upon the ground, con- 
templating the scene before her with a look of mingled sur- 
prise, curiosity, and regret. 

From the appearance of the whole caravan, a stranger 
could have divined that some event of thrilling interest was 
about to transpire. 

“ Colin,” cried Terence, encouragingly, “ we won’t sit here 
quietly, and see you meet death. We had better do some- 
thing while yet we have a chance. Let Harry give the 
word.” 

“ I tell you it ’s madness,” expostulated Colin. “ Wait till 
we see what he intends doing. Perhaps he’ll keep me 
a while for future vengeance, and ye may have a chance of a 
rescue when there are not two men standing over us ready 
to blow our brains out.” 

Colin’s companions saw there was truth in this remark, dnd 
for a while they waited in silence, with their eyes fixed upon 
the tent of the shiek. 

They had not long to wait, for, soon after, Golah came 
forth, having finished his consultation with Fatima. 

On his face appeared a hideous smile, — a smile that 
made most of those who beheld it shudder with a sensation 
of horror. 


180 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER LI 


A LIVING GRAVE. 


OLAH’S first act after coming forth was to take some 



AT thongs from his saddle. Having done this, he beck- 
oned to the two who guarded the slaves, giving them some 
admonition in an unknown tongue. The effect was to ex- 
cite their greater vigilance. The muzzles of their muskets 
were turned towards the white captives, and they seemed 
anxiously waiting the order to fire. 

Golah then looked towards Terence, and made a sign for 
the young Irishman to get up and come towards him. 

Terence hesitated. 

“ Go on, Terry,” muttered Colin. “ He don’t mean you 
any harm.” 

At this instant Fatima stepped out from the tent, armed 
with her husifend’s scimitar, and apparently anxious for an 
opportunity of using it. 

Acting under the advice of the others, Terence sprang to 
his feet: and advanced to the spot where the sheik was 
standing. The Krooman who spoke English was then 
called up ; and Golah, taking him and the midshipman each 
by a hand, led them into his tent, — whither they were fol- 
lowed by Fatima. 

The sheik now addressed a few words to the Krooman, 
who then told Terence that his life depended on perfect 
obedience to Golah’s orders. His hands were to be tied ; 
and he must not call out so as to be heard by the others. 

“ He say,” said the Krooman, “ if you no make fight, and 
no make noise, he no kill you.” 

The man further counselled Terence to submit quietly, — 
saying that the least resistance wc^ald lead to all the white 
slaves being killed. 


A LIVING GRAVE. 


181 


Though possessing more than average strength and power 
for a youth of his age, Terence knew that, in a strife with 
the gigantic black sheik, he would not have the slightest 
chance of being victor. 

Should he shout to his companions, and have them all act 
in concert, — as they had already proposed ? 

No. Such an act would most likely lead to two of them 
being shot ; to the third having his brains knocked out with 
the butt-end of a musket ; and to the fourth, — himself, — 
being strangled in the powerful grasp of Golah, if not 
beheaded with the scimitar in the hands of Fatima. On 
reflection, the young Scotchman yielded, and permitted 
his hands to be tied behind his back; so, too, did the 
Krooman. 

Golah now stepped out of the tent: and immediately 
after returned, leading Harry Blount along with him. 

On reaching the opening, and seeing Terence and the 
Krooman lying bound upon the floor, the young Englishman 
started back, and struggled to free himself from*the grasp of 
the hand that had hold of him. His efforts only resulted in 
his being instantly flung to the earth, and fast held by his 
powerful adversary, who at the same time was also employed 
in protecting his victim from the fury of Fatima. 

Terence, Harry, and the Krooman were now conducted 
back over the ground, and placed in their former position in 
the row, — from which they had been temporarily,taken. 

Sailor Bill and Colin were next treated in a similar fash- 
ion, — both being fast bound like their companions. 

“ What does the ould divil mane ? ” asked Bill when Golah 
was tying his hands together. “ Will he murder us all ? ” 
No,” answered the Krooman. “ He no kill but one of 
your party.” 

His eyes turned upon Colin as he spoke. 

‘‘ Colin ! Colin ! ” exclaimed Harry ; “ see what you have 
done by opposing our plan ! We are all helpless now.” 


182 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


“ And so much, the better for yourselves,” answered Colin 

You will now suffer no further harm.” 

“ If he means no harm, why has he bound us ? ” asked 
Bill. “ It ’s a queer way of showing friendship.” 

“ Yes, but a safe one,” answered Colin. “ You cannot now 
bring yourselves into danger by a foolish resistance to his 
will.” 

Terence and Harry understood Colin’s meaning; and now, 
for the first time, comprehended the reason why they had 
been bound. 

It was to prevent them from interfering with Golah’s plans 
for the disposal of his two victims. 

Now that the white slaves were secured, no danger was 
apprehended from the others ; and the two who had been 
guarding them retired to the shade of a tent to refresh them- 
selves with a drink of cheni. 

While the brief conversation above related was being held, 
Golah had become busily engaged in overhauling the lading 
of one of his camels. 

The object of his search was soon discovered: for, the 
moment after, he came towards them carrying a long Moor- 
ish spade. 

Two of the black slaves were then called from the line ; 
the spade was placed in the hands of one, and a wooden dish 
was given to the other. They were then ordered to make a 
^ large hole in the sand, — to accomplish which they at once 
set to work. 

‘‘ They are digging a grave for me, or that of the poor 
woman, — perhaps for both of us ? ” suggested Colin, as he 
calmly gazed on the spectacle. 

. His companions had no doubt but that it was as be had 
said ; and sat contemplating the scene in melancholy silence. 

While the slaves were engaged in scooping up the hole, 
Golah called the two guards, and gave them some orders 
about continuing the journey. 


A LIVING GEAVE. 


183 


The blacks set about the work were but a few minutes in 
making an excavation in the loose sand of some four feet in 
depth. They were then directed to dig another. 

It ’s all over with me,” said Colin ; “ he intends to kill 
two, and of course I must be one of them.” 

“ He should kill us all,” exclaimed Terence. “We de- 
serve it for leaving the well last night. We should have 
made an effort for our lives, while we had the chance.” 

“ You are right,” replied Harry ; “ we are fools, cowardly 
fools 1 We deserve neither pity in this world nor happiness 
in the next. Colly, my friend, if you meet with any harm, 
I swear to avenge it, whenever my hands are free.” 

“ And I ’ll be w ith you,” added Terence. 

“ Never mind me, old comrades,” answered Colin, who 
seemed less excited than the others. “ Do the best- you can 
for yourselves, and you may some time escape from this 
monster.” 

The attention of Harry was now attracted to Sailor Bill, 
who had turned his back toward one of the black slaves sit- 
ting near him, and was by signs entreating the man to untie 
his hand. 

The man refused, evidently fearing the anger of Golah 
should he be detected. 

The second Krooman, who was unbound, now offered to 
loose the hands of his countryman ; but the latter seemed 
satisfied with his want of freedom, and refused the proffered 
aid. He also feared death at the hands of Golah. 

If left to divine the ultimate intentions of the black sheik 
by the knowledge of human nature they had acquired before 
falling into his hands, the white captives would not have 
been seriously alarmed for the welfare of any one of their 
number. But Golah was a specimen of natural history new 
to them ; and their apprehensions were excited to the highest 
pitch by the conduct of those whom they knew to be better 
acquainted with his character. 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


'184 

The behavior of the woman who had aroused his anger 
showed that she was endeavoring to resign herself to some 
fearful mode of death. The wild lamentations of her chil- 
dren denoted that they were conscious of some impending 
misfortune. 

Fatima seemed about to realize the fulfilment of some 
long-cherished hope, — the hope of revenge on a detested 
rival. 

The care Golah had taken to hinder any interference with 
his plans, — the words of the lixooman, the looks and ges- 
tures of the guards and of Golah himself, the digging of two 
graves in the sand, — all gave warning that some fearful 
tragedy was about to be enacted. Our adventurers were 
conscious of this, and conscious, also, that they could do 
nothing to prevent it. 

Nearly frantic with the helplessness of their position, they 
could only wait — “ trembling for the birth of Fate.” 


CHAPTER LII. 

THE sheik’s plan OP REVENGE. 

T he second sand-pit was dug a short distance from the 
first ; and when it had been sunk to the depth of about 
four and a half feet, Golah commanded the blacks to leave 
off their labor, — one of them being sent back to the line to 
be seated along with his fellow-slaves. 

By this time the tents had been struck, the camels loaded; 
and all but Golah and Fatima appeared willing and anxious 
to depart from the spot. These were not : for their business 
at that camping-place had not yet been completed. 

When the two guards had again resumed their former 


THE SHEIK’S PLAN OF REVENGE. 


185 


stations in front of the line, — as before with their muskets 
at full cock, — Golah advanced towards the woman, who, 
disengaging herself from her children, stood up at his ap 
proach. 

Then succeeded a moment of intense interest. 

Was he going to kill her? 

If so, in what manner ? 

All looked on with painful anticipation of some dire 
event. 

It soon transpired. The woman was seized by Golah 
himself; dragged towards the pits that had been dug; 
and thrust into one of them. The slave who wielded the 
spade was then commanded to fill up the excavation around 
her. 

Terence was the first to speak. 

“ God help her ! ” he exclaimed ; “ the monster is going 
to bury her alive ! Can’t we save her ? ” 

“ We are not men if we do not try ! ” exclaimed Harry, 
as he suddenly sprang to his feet. 

His example was immediately followed by his white com- 
panions. 

The two muskets were instantly directed towards them ; 
but at a shout from Golah their muzzles were as quickly 
dropped. 

The sheik’s son then, at his father’s command, ran to the 
pit to secure the woman, while Golah himself rushed for- 
ward to meet the helpless men who were advancing towards 
him. 

In an instant the four were thrown prostrate to the earth. 

With their hands tied, the powerful sheik upset them as 
easily as though they had been bags of sand. 

Raising Harry by the hair of his head with one hand and 
Terence with the other, he dragged them back to their places 
in the line where they had been already seated. 

Sailor Bill saved himself from like treatment by rolling 


186 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


over and over until he had regained his former place. Colin 
was allowed to lie on the ground where the sheik had 
knocked him over. 

Golah now returned to the pit where the woman stood 
half buried. 

She made no resistance — she uttered no complaint — but 
seemed calmly to resign herself to a fate that could not be 
averted. Golah apparently did not intend to behold her 
die, for, when the earth was filled in around her body, her 
head still remained above ground. She was to be starved to 
death ! As the sheik was turning away to attend to other 
matters, the woman spoke. Her words were few. and pro- 
duced no effect upon him. They did, however, upon the 
Krooman, whose eyes were seen to fill with tears that rapidly 
chased each other down his mahogany-colored cheeks. 

Colin, who seemed to notice everything except the fate 
threatening himself, observed the Ki*ooman’s excitement, 
and inquired its cause. ^ 

“ She ask him to be kind to her little boy,” said the man, 
in a voice trembling with emotion. 

Are tears unmanly ? — No. 

The shining drops that rolled from that man’s eyes, and 
sparkled adown his dusky cheeks, on hearing the unfortu- 
nate woman’s prayer for her children, proved that he was 
not a brute, but a man, — a man with a soul that millions 
might envy. 

After leaving the place where the woman was buried, 
Golah walked up to Colin ; and, dragging him to his feet, 
led him away to the other pit. 

His intentions were now evident to all. The two indi- 
viduals, who had aroused his anger and jealousy, were to be 
left near each other, buried alive, to perish in this fearful 
fashion. 

“ Colin ! Colin ! what can we do to save you ? ” ex- 
claimed Harry, in a tone expressing despair and anguish. 


THE SHEIK’S PLAN OF REVENGE. 


187 


“ Nothing,” answered Colin ; “ don t attempt it, or you will 
only bring trouble on yourselves. Leave me to my fate.” 

At this moment the speaker was thrown into the pit, and 
held in an upright attitude by Golah, while the black slave 
proceeded to fill in the earth around him. 

Following the philosophical example set by the woman, 
Colin made no useless resistance ; and was soon submerged 
under the sand piled up to his shoulders. His companions 
sat gazing with speechless horror, all suffering the combined 
anguish of shame, regret, and despair. 

The sheik was now ready to depart; and ordered the 
slave who had been assisting him in his diabolical work to 
mount the camel formerly ridden by the woman who was 
thus entombed. The black obeyed, pleased to think that his 
late task was to be so agreeably rewarded ; but a sudden 
change came over his features when Golah and Fatima 
passed up the three children, and placed them under his 
care. 

Golah had but one more act to perform before leaving the 
spot. It was an act worthy of himself, although suggested 
by Fatima. 

After filling a bowl about half full of water, he placed it 
midway between Colin and the woman, but so distant from 
each that neither could possibly reach it ! 

This Satanic idea was executed with the design of tantaliz- 
ing the sufferers in their dying hours with the sight of that 
element the want of which would soon cause them the most 
acute anguish. By the side of the bowl he also placed a 
handful of figs. 

“ There,” he tauntingly exclaimed ; “ I leave you two 
together, and with more food and drink than you will ever 
consume. Am I not kind? What more can you ask? 
Bismillah ! God is great, and Mahomet is his prophet ; and 
I am Golah, the kind, the just ! ” 

Saying this, he gave orders to resume the march. 


188 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


« Don’t move ! ” exclaimed Terence ; ** we will give him 
some trouble yet.” 

“ Of course we ’ll not go, and leave Colin there,” said 
Harry. The sheik is too avaricious to kill all his slaves. 
Don’t move a step. Bill, and we may have Colly liberated 
yet.” 

I shall do as you say, ov course,” said Bill ; “ but I ex- 
pect we shall ’ave to go. Golah has got a way of making a 
man travel, whether he be willing or not.” 

All started forward from the place but the three white 
slaves and the two whom Golah intended to remain. 

“ Cheer up, lad,” said Bill to Colin ; we ’ll never go, 
and leave you there.” 

‘‘ Go on, go on ! ” exclaimed* Colin. “ You can do me no 
good, and will only injure yourselves.” 

Golah had mounted his camel and ridden forward, leaving 
to his two guards the task of driving on the slaves^ and, aa 
if apprehensive of trouble from them, he had directed Ter- 
ence, Harry, Bill, and the Krooman to be brought on with 
their hands tied behind them. 

The three refused to move ; and when all efforts to get 
them on had been tried in vain, the guards made a loud 
appeal to their sheik. 

Golah came riding back in a great rage. 

Dismounting from his camel he drew the ramrod from his 
musket; then, rushing up to Terence, who was the near- 
est to him, administered to him a shower of blows that 
changed the color of his shirt from an untidy white to the 
darker hue of blood. 

The two guards, following the example of their lord and 
master, commenced beating Harry and Bill, who, unable 
to make any resistance, had to endure the torture in silence. 

“ Go on, my friends ! ” exclaimed Colin ; ** for God’s sake, 
go, and leave me! You cannot do anything to avert my 
iatel” 


THE SHEIK’S PLAN OF REVENGE. 


189 


Colin’s entreaties, as well as the torture from the blows 
they received, were alike without effect. His shipmates 
could not bring themselves to desert their old comrade, and 
leave him to the terrible death that threatened him. 

Rushing up to Bill and Harry, Golah caught hold of each, 
and hurled them to the gronnd by the side of Terence. 
Keeping all three together, he now ordered a camel to be 
led up ; and the order was instantly obeyed by one of the 
guards. The halter was then taken from the head of the 
animal. 

“We ’ave got to go now,” said Bill. “ He ’s going to try 
the same dodge as beat me the other day. I shall save him 
the trouble.” 

Bill tried to rise, but was prevented. He had refused to 
walk when earnestly urged to do so ; and now, when he was 
willing to go on, he had to wait the pleasure of his owner 
as to the manner in which his journey should be continued. 

While Golah was fastening the rope to Harry’s hands, the 
sharp shrill voice of Fatima called his attention to some of 
the people who had gone on before. 

The two women, who led the camels loaded with articles 
taken from the wreck, had advanced about three hundred 
yards from the place ; and were now, along with the blade 
sla\ es, surrounded by a party of men mounted on maherriea 
and horses. 


190 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER LIII. 

CArTURED AGAIN. 

G OLAH’S fear of the Arabs met by the well had not 
been without a cause. His forced night march, to 
avoid meeting them again, had not secured the object for 
which it had been made. 

Approaching from the direction of the rising sun, the 
Arabs had not been discovered in the distance ; and Golah, 
occupied in overcoming the obstinate resistance of the white 
slaves, had allowed them to come quite near before they 
had been observed by him. 

Leaving his captives, the sheik seized his musket; and, 
followed by his son and brother-in-law, rushed forward to 
protect his wives and property. 

He was too late. Before he could reach them they were 
in the possession of others ; and as he drew near the spot 
where they had been captured, he saw a dozen muskets pre- 
sented towards himself, and heard some one loudly com- 
manding him, in the name of the Prophet, to approach in 
peace 1 ^ 

Golah had the discretion to yield to a destiny that could 
not be averted, — the misfortune of being made a prisoner 
and plundered at the same time. 

Calmly saying, “ It is the will of God,” he sat down, and 
invited his captors to a conference on the terms of capitu- 
lation. 

As soon as the caravan had fallen into the possession of 
the robbers, the Krooman’s hands were unbound by his com- 
panion, and he hastened to the relief of the white slaves. 

“ Golah no our massa now,” said he, while untying Har- 
ry’s wrists ; “ our massa is Arab dat take us norf. We get 


CAPTURED AGAIN. 


191 


free. Dat why dis Arab no buy us, — he know us he hab 
for noting.” 

The cords were quickly untied, and the attention of the 
others was now turned to disinterring Colin and the woman 
from their living graves. 

To do this, Harry wanted to use the water-bowl the sheik 
had left for the purpose of tantalizing his victims with the 
sight of its contents. 

“ Here, drink this water,” said he, holding the vessel to 
Colin’s lips. “ I want to make use of the dish.” 

“ No, no ; dig me out without that,” answered Colin. 
“ Leave the water as it is ; I have a particular use for it 
when I get free. I wish the old sheik to see me drink it.” 

Bill, Harry, and the Krooman set to work : and Colin 
and the woman were soon uncovered and dragged out. Ter- 
ence was then awakened to consciousness by a few drops of 
the water poured over his face. 

Owing to the cramped position in which he had been 
placed and so long held, Colin was for a few minutes un- 
able to walk. They waited, to give him time to recover the 
use of his limbs. The slave who had the care of the wo- 
man’s children was now seen coming back with them, and 
the woman ran to meet him. 

The delight of the wretched mother at again embracing 
her offspring was so great, that the gentle-souled Krooman 
was once more affected to tears. 

In the conference with the Arab robbers, Golah was un- 
able to obtain the terms he fancied a sheik should be en- 
titled to. 

They offered him two camels and the choice of one wife 
out of the three, on condition he should go back to his own 
country, and return to the desert no more. 

These terms Golah indignantly refused, and declared that 
he would rather die in defence of his rights. 

Golah was a pure negro, and one of a class of traders 


192 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


much disliked by the Arabs. He was a lawless intruder on 
their grounds, — a trespasser upon their special domain, the 
Great Desert. He had just acquired a large amount of 
wealth in goods and slaves, that had been cast on their coast ; 
and these they were determined he should not carry back 
with him to his own country. 

Though he was as much a robber as themselves, they had 
no sympathies with him, and would not be satisfied with 
merely a share of his plundeut They professed to under- 
stand all his doings in the past ; and accused him of not 
being a fair trader ! 

They told him that he never came upon the desert with 
merchandise to exchange, but only with camels, to be driven 
away, laden with property justly belonging to them, the real 
owners of the land. 

They denied his being a true"i>eliever in the Prophet ; 
and concluded their talk by declaring that he should be 
thankful for the liberal terms they had offered him. 

Golah’s opposition to their proposal became so demonstra- 
tive, that the Arabs were obliged to disarm and bind him ; 
though this was not accomplished without a fierce struggle, 
in which several of his adversaries were overthrown. 

A blow on the head with the stock of a musket at length 
reduced him to subjection, after which his hands were fast 
tied behind his back. 

During the struggle, Golah’s son was prevented from in- 
terfering in behalf of his father, by the black slaves who 
had been so long the victims of his cruel care; while the 
brother-in-law, as well as Fatima and the third wife, re- 
mained passive spectators of the scene. 

On Golah being secured, the white slaves, with old Bill 
at their head, came up and voluntarily surrendered them- 
selves to their new masters. 

Colin had in his hands the bowl of water, and the dried 
figs that had been placed beside it. 


CAPTURED AGAIN. 


193 


Advancing towards Golah, he held the figs up before his 
eyes, and then, with a nod and an expression that seemed 
to say, “ Thank you for this,” he raised the bowl to his lips 
with the intention of drinking. 

The expression on the sheik’s features became Satanic, 
but suddenly changed into a glance of pleasure, as one of 
the Arabs snatched the vessel out of Colin’s hands, and in- 
stantly drank off* its contents. 

Colin received the lesson iffeekly, and said not a word. 

The Arabs speedily commenced making arrangements 
for leaving the place. The first move was to establish a 
communication between Golah and the saddle of one of his 
camels. 

This was accomplished by using a rope as a medium ; and 
the black giant was compelled to walk after the animal with 
his hands tied behind him, — in the same fashion as he had 
lately set for Sailor Bill. 

His wives and slaves seemed to comprehend the change 
in their fortunes, and readily adapted their conduct to the 
circumstances. 

The greatest transformation of all was observable in the 
behavior of the favorite Fatima. 

Since his capture she had kept altogether aloof from her 
late lord, and showed not the slightest sympathy for his mis 
fortunes. 

By her actions she seemed to say: ‘‘The mighty Go- 
lah has fallen, and is no longer worthy of my distinguished 
regard.” 

Very different was the behavior of the woman whom the 
cruel sheik would have left to die a lingering death. Her 
husband’s misfortune seemed to have awakened within her 
a love for the father of her children : and her features, as 
she gazed upon the captive, — who, although defeated, was 
unsubdued in spirit, — wore a mingled expression of pity 
and grief. 


9 


M 


194 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Hungry, thirsty^ weary and bleeding — enslaved on the 
Great Desert, still uncertain of what was to be their fate, 
and doubtful of surviving much longer the hardships they 
might be forced to endure — our adventurers were far from 
being happy; but, with all their misery, they felt joyful 
when comparing their present prospects with those before 
them but an hour ago. 

With the exception of Golah, the Arabs had no trouble 
with their captives. The white and black slaves knew they 
were travelling towards the well ; and the prospect of again 
having plenty of water was sufficient inducement to make 
them put forth all their strength in following the camels. 

Early in the evening a short halt was made ; when each 
of the company was serv^ with about half a pint of water 
from the skins. The Arabs, expecting to reach the well 
soon after, could afford to be thus liberal ; but the’ favor so 
granted, though thankfully received by the slaves was scorn- 
fully refused by their late master — the giant-bodied and 
strong-minded Golah. 

To accept of food and drink from his enemies, in his 
present humiliating position — bound and dragged along 
like a slave — was a degradation to which he scorned to 
submit. 

On Golah contemptuously refusing the proffered cup of 
water, the Arab who offered it simply ejaculated, “ Thank 
God ! ” and then drank it himself. 

The well was reached about an hour after midnight ; and, 
after quenching their thirst, the slaves were allowed to go 
to rest and sleep, — a privilege they stood sorely in need of, 
having been over thirty hours afoot, upon their cheerless 
and arduous journey. 


AN UNFAITHFUL WIFK. 


195 


CHAPTER LIV. 

AN UNFAITHFUL WIFE. 

O N waking up the next morning, our adventurers were 
gratified with a bit of intelligence communicated by 
the Krooman ; that they were to have a day of rest. A 
camel was also to be killed for food. 

The Arabs were going to divide amongst themselves the 
slaves taken from Golah ; and the opportunity was not to 
be lost of recruiting their strength for a long journey. 

As Sailor Bill reflected upon their sufferings since leaving 
that same place two days before, he expressed regret that 
they had not been captured before leaving the well, and thus 
spared the horrors they had endured. 

Stimulated by the remembrance of so much suffering 
needlessly incurred, he asked the Krooman to explain the 
conduct of their new. masters. 

The Krooman’s first attempt at satisfying his curiosity 
was to state, that the Arabs had acted after a manner pecu- 
liar to themselves, — in other words, that it was “a way 
they had.” 

The old sailor was not satisfied with this answer; and 
pressed for a further explanation. 

He was then told that the robbers on the desert were al- 
ways in danger of meeting several caravans at a watering- 
place ; and that any act of violence committed there would 
bring upon the perpetrators everlasting disgrace, as well as 
the enmity of all desert travellers. The Krooman explained 
himself by saying, that should a caravan of a hundred men 
arrive at the well, they would not now interfere in behalf of 
Golah, but would only recognize him as a slave. On the 
contrary, had they found him engaged in actual strife with 
the robbers^ they would have assisted him. 


136 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


This was satisfactory to all but Bill. Even Colin, who 
had been buried alive, and Terence, who had been so un- 
mercifully beaten, were pleased at their change of masters 
on any terms ; but the old sailor, sailor-like, would not have 
teen himself without some cause of complaint. 

Before their newly acquired wealth could be divided, the 
Arabs had to come to some resolution as to the disposal 
the black sheik ; who still remained so unmanageable 
ihat he had to be kept bound, with a guard placed over 
him. 

The Arabs could not agree amongst themselves as to 
what should be done with him. Some of them urged that, 
despite the color of his skin, he might be a true believer in 
the Prophet ; and that, notwithstanding his manner of trad- 
ing and acquiring wealth — a system nearly as dishonest as 
their own — he was entitled to his liberty, with a certain 
portion of his property. 

Others claimed that they had a perfect right to add him 
and his large family to the number of their slaves. 

He was not an Arab, but an Ethiopian, like most of his 
following ; and, as a slave, would bring a high price in any 
of the markets where men were bought and sold. 

Those who argued thus were in the minority ; and Golah 
was at length offered his wives and their children, with a 
couple of camels and his scimitar. 

This offer the black sheik indignantly refused, — much to 
the astonishment of those who had been so eloquent in his 
behalf. 

His decision produced another debate ; in which the opin- 
ions of several of his captors underwent such a change, that 
it was finally determined to consider him as one of the 
slaves. 

Every article that had been obtained from the wreck was 
now exposed to view, and a fixed price set upon it. 

The slaves were carefully examined and valued, — as well 


AN UNFAITHFUL WIFE. 


197 


as the camels, muskets, and everything that had belonged to 
Golah or his dependants* 

When these preliminaiy arrangements had been com- 
pleted, the Arabs proceeded to an equitable partition of the 
property. 

This proved a very difficult matter to manage, and occu- 
pied their time for the rest of the day. Three or four would 
covet the same article ; and long and noisy discussions would 
take place before the dispute could be settled to their mutual 
satisfaction. 

The Krooman, who understood the desert language, was 
attentive to all that transpired ; and from time to time in- 
formed the white slaves of what was being done. 

At an early period in the discussions, he discovered that 
each of the four was to fall to different masters. 

You and me,” said he to Harry, “ we no got two mas- 
sas — only one.” 

His words were soon after proved to be true. They were 
carried apart from each other, evidently with the designs of 
being appropriated by different owners ; and the fear that 
they might also be separated again came over them. 

When the slaves, camels, tents, and articles that had been 
gathered from the wreck were distributed amongst the 
eleven Arabs, each one took the charge of his own ; but 
there still remained Golah, his wives and their children, to 
be disposed of. 

No one seemed desirous of becoming the owner of the 
black sheik and his wives. Even those who had said that he 
would make a valuable slave, appeared unwilling to take 
him, although induced to do so by the taunts of their com- 
panions. 

The fact was, that they were afraid of him. He would 
be too difficult to manage ; and none of them wished to be 
the master of one who obstinately refused both food and 
drink, and who so defiantly invoked upon the heads of his 


198 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


captors the curse of Mahomet, and swore by the heard of the 
Prophet that the moment his hands were free, he would kill 
the man who should dare to own or claim him as a slave. 

Golah, with all his faults, was neither cunning nor deceit- 
ful, and, having a spirit too great to affect submission, he did 
not intend to yield. 

He was arrogant, cruel, avaricious, and vindictive; but 
the wrongs he did were always accomplished in a plain, 
open-handed way, and never by stratagem or treachery. 

By accepting the terms the Arabs had offered him, his 
strength, courage, and unconquerable will might afterwards 
have enabled him to obtain revenge upon his captors, and 
regain a portion of his property ; but it was not in his na- 
ture to sham submission, even for the sake of gaining a 
future advantage. 

As not one of the Arabs was willing to accept of him, at 
the value at which he had been appraised, or to allow an- 
other to have him for less, it was finally decided that he 
should be retained as the common property of all, until he 
could be sold to some other tribe, when a distribution might 
be made of the proceeds of the sale. His wives and children 
were to be disposed of in like manner. 

This arrangement was satisfactory to all but Golah him- 
self, who expressed himself greatly displeased with it. Nev- 
ertheless, he seemed a little disposed to yield to circum- 
stances ; for, soon after the decision of his captors was made 
known to him, he called to Fatima, and commanded her to 
bring him a bowl of water. 

The favorite refused, under the plea that she had been 
forbidden to give him anything. 

This was true ; for, as he had declined to accept of any- 
thing at the hands of those claiming to be his masters, they 
had determined to starve him into submission. 

Fatima’s refusal to obey him caused Golah his greatest 
chagrin. Ever accustomed to prompt and slavish obedience 


AlS UNFAITHFUL WIFE. 


199 


from others, the idea of his own wife — his favorite too — 
denying his modest request, almost drove him frantic. 

“ I am your husband,” he cried, “ and whom should you 
obey but me ? Fatima! I command you to bring me some 
water ! ” 

“ And I command you not to do it,” said the Arab sheik, 
who, standing near by, had heard the order. 

Fatima was an artful, selfish woman, who had gained some 
influence over her husband by flattering his vanity, and pro- 
fessing a love she had never felt. 

She had acted with slavish obedience to him when he was 
all-powerful ; but now that he was himself a slave, her sub- 
mission had been transferred with perfect facility to the 
chief of the band who had captured him. 

It was now that Golah began to realize the fact that he 
was a conquered man. 

His heart was nearly bursting with rage, shame, and dis- 
appointment; for nothing could so plainly awaken him to 
the comprehension of his real position, as the fact that Fa- 
tima, his favorite, she who had ever professed for him so 
much love and obedience, now refused to attend to his sim- 
plest request. 

After making one more violent and ineffectual effort at 
breaking his bonds, he sank down upon the earth and re- 
mained silent — bitterly contemplating the degraded condi- 
tion into which he had fallen. 

The Krooman, who was a very sharp observer of passing 
events, and had an extensive knowledge of peculiar speci- 
mens of human nature, closely watched the behavior of the 
black sheik. 

“ He no like us,” he remarked to the whites. ‘‘ He nebba 
be slave. Bom-by you see him go dead.” 


200 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER LV 


TWO FAITHFUL WIVES. 


HILE Golah’s mind appeared to be stunned almost 



to unconsciousness by the refusal of Fatima to 
obey his orders, his other two wives were moving about, as 
if engaged in some domestic duty. 

Presently the woman he had buried in the sand was seen 
going towards him with a calabash of water, followed by the 
other who carried a dish of sangleh. 

One of the Arabs perceiving their intention, ran up, and, 
in an angry tone, commanded them to retire to their tents. 
The two women persisted in their design, and in order to 
prevent them, without using violence, the Arab offered to* 
serve the food and drink himself. 

This they permitted him to do ; but when the water was 
offered to Golah it was again refused. 

The black sheik would not receive either food or drink 
from the hand of a master. 

The sangleh was then consumed by the Arab with a real 
or sham profession of gratitude ; the water was poured into 
a bucket, and given to one of the camels ; and the two cal- 
abashes were returned to the women. 

Neither a keen longing for food, nor a burning thirst 
for water, could divert Golah’s thoughts from the contem- 
plation of something that was causing his soul extrema 
anguish. 

His physical tortures seemed, for the time, extinguishe%' 
by some deep mental agony. 

Again the wives — the unloved ones — advanced towardi 
him, bearing water and food ; and again the Arab stepped 
forward to intercept them. The two women persisted m 
their design, and, while opposing the efforts of the Arab to 


TWO FAITHFUL WIVES. 


201 


turn them back, they called on the two youths, the relatives 
of the black sheik, as also on Fatima, to assist them. 

Of the three persons thus appealed to, only Golah’s sou 
obeyed their summons ; but his attempt to aid the women 
was immediately frustrated by the Arab, who claimed him 
as a slave, and who now commanded him to stand aside. 
His command having no effect, the Arab proceeded to use 
force. At the risk of his life the youth resisted. He dared 
to use violence against a master — a crime that on the des- 
ert demands the punishment of death. 

Aroused from his painful reverie by the commotion going 
on around him, Golah, seeing the folly of the act, shouted to 
his son to be calm, and yield obedience ; but the youth, not 
heeding the command of his father, continued his resistance. 
He was just on the point of being cut down, when the Kroo- 
man ran forward, and pronouncing in Arabic two words sig- 
nifying “ father and son,” saved the youth’s life. The Arab 
robber had sufficient respect for the relationship to stay his 
hand from committing murder ; but to prevent any further 
trouble with the young fellow, he was seized by several 
others, fast bound, and flung fo the ground by the side of 
his father. 

The two women, still persisting in their design to relieve 
the wants of their unfortunate husband, were then knocked 
down, kicked, beaten, and finally dragged inside the tents. 

This scene was witnessed by Fatima ; who, instead of 
showing sympathy, appeared highly amused by it, — so much 
so as even to give way to laughter ! Her unnatural behavior 
once more roused the indignation of her husband. 

The wrong of being robbed — the humiliation of being 
bound — the knowledge that he himself, along with his chil- 
dren, would be sold into slavery — the torture of hunger and 
thirst — were sources of misery no longer heeded by him : 
all were forgotten in the contemplation of a far greater 
guish. 


9 * 


202 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Fatima, the favorite, the woman to whom his word should 
have been law, — the woman who had always pretended to 
think him something more than mortal, — now not only shun- 
ning but despising him in the midst of his misfortunes ! 

This knowledge did more towards subduing the giant than 
all his other sufferings combined. 

“ Old Golah looks very down in the mouth,” remarked 
Terence to his companions. “ If it was not for the beating 
he gave me yesterday, I could almost pity him. I made an 
oath, at the time he w^as thwacking me with the ramrod, that 
if my hands were ever again at liberty, I ’d see if it was 
possible to kill him ; but now that they are free, and his are 
bound, I Ve not the heart to touch him, bad as he is.” 

“ That i^ right, Terry,” said Bill ; “ it ^s only wimin an’ 
bits o’ boys as throws wather on a drowned rat, — not as I 
mane to say the owld rascal is past mischief yet. I believe 
he ’ll do some more afore the Devil takes ’im intirely ; but I 
mane that Him as sits up aloft is able to do His own work 
without your helping Him. 

‘‘ You speak truth. Bill,” said Harry ; “ I don’t think 
there is any necessity for seeking revenge of Golah for his 
cruel treatment of us ; he is now as ill off as the rest of us.” 

“ What is that you say ? ” inquired Colin. “ Golah like 
one of us ? Nothing of the kind. He has more pluck, en- 
durance, obstinacy, and true manly spirit about him than 
there is in the four of us combined.” 

‘‘Was his attempt to starve you dictated by a manly spir- 
it?” asked Harry. 

“ Perhaps not, but it was the fault of the circumstances 
under which he has been educated. I don ’t think of that 
now ; my admiration of the man is too strong. Look at his 
refusing that drink of water when it had been several times 
offered him ! ” 

“ There is something wonderful about him, certainly,” as- 
sented Harry ; “ but I don’t see anything in him to admire.” 


TWO FAITHFUL WIVES. 


203 


“ No more do I,” said Bill. “ He might be as Comfortable 
now as we are ; and I say a man ’s a fool as won’t be ’appy 
when he can.” 

“ What you call his folly,” rejoined Colin, “ is but a noble 
pride that makes him superior to any of us. He has a spirit 
that will not submit to slavery, and we have not.” 

“ That be truth,” remarked the Krooman ; “ Golah neb- 
bar be slave.” 

Colin was right. By accepting food and drink from his 
captors, the black sheik might have satisfied the demands of 
mere animal nature, but only at the sacrifice of all that was 
noble in his nature. His self-respect, along with the proud, 
unyielding spirit by which everything good and great is ac- 
complished, would have been gone from him for ever. 

Sailor Bill and his companions, the boy slaves, had been 
taught from childhood to yield to circumstances, and still 
retain some moral feeling ; but Golah had not. 

The only thing he could yield to adverse fate was hh life. 

At this moment the Krooman, by a gesture, called their 
attention towards the captive sheik, at the same time giving 
utterance to a sharp ejaculation. 

“ Look ! ” exclaimed he, “ Golah no stay longer on de 
Saara. You him see soon die now — look at him ! ” 

At the same instant Golah had risen to his feet, inviting 
his Arab master to a conference. 

“ There is but one God,” said he, “ Mahomet is his proph- 
et ; and I am his servant. I will never be a slave. Give 
me one wife, a camel, and my scimitar, and I will go. I 
have been robbed ; but God is great, and it is his will, and 
my destiny.” 

Golah had at length yielded, though not because that he 
suffered for food and water ; not that he feared slavery or 
death ; not that his proud spirit had become weak or given 
way; but rather that it had grown stronger under the 
prompting cf Revenge. * 


204 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


The Arab sheik conferred with his followers ; and there 
arose a brief controversy among them. 

The trouble they had with their gigantic captive, the diffi- 
culty they anticipated in disposing of him, and their belief 
that he was a good Mussulman, were arguments in favor of 
granting his request, and setting him at liberty. 

It was therefore decided to let him go — on the condition 
of his taking his departure at once. 

Golah consented ; and they proceeded to untie his hands. 
While this was being done, the Krooman ran up to Colin’s 
master, and cautioned him to protect his slave, until the sheik 
had departed. 

This warning was unnecessary, for Golah had other and 
more serious thoughts to engage his mind than that of any 
animosity he might once have felt against the young Scotch- 
man. 

“ I am free,” said Golah, when his hands were untied. 
“We are equals, and Mussulmen. I claim your hospitality. 
Give me some food and drink.” 

He then stepped forward to the well, and quenched his 
thirst, after which some boiled camel meat was placed before 
him. 

Wliile he was appeasing an appetite that had been two 
days in gaining strength, Fatima, who had observed a strange 
expression in his eyes, appeared to be in great consternation. 
She had believed him doomed to a life of slavery, if not to 
death; and this belief had influenced her in her late ac- 
tions. 

Gliding up to the Arab sheik, she entreated to be sepa- 
rated from her husband ; but the only answer she received 
was, that Golah should have either of the three wives ho 
chose to take ; that he (the sheik) and his companions were 
men of honor, who would not break the promise they had 
given. 

A goat-skin of water, some bai-ley meal, for making sany 


FATIMA’S FATE. 


205 


lehy and a few other necessary articles, were placed on a 
camel, whiv'.h was delivered over to Golah. 

The black sheik then addressed a few words in some 
African language to his son ; and, calling Fatima to follow 
him, he started off across the desert. 


CHAPTER LVI 


Fatima's fate. 



COMPLETE change had come over the fortunes of 


Fatima. Vain, cruel, and tyrannical but the moment 
before, she was now humbled to the dust of the desert. In 
place of commanding her fellow wives, she now approached 
them with entreaties, begging them to take charge of her 
child, which she seemed determined to leave behind her 
Both willingly assented to her wishes. 

Our adventurers were puzzled by this circumstance, for 
there appeared to be no reason that Fatima should leave her 
offspring behind her. Even the Krooman could not explain 
it ; and as the shades of night descended over the desert, 
the mother separated from her ‘ child, perhaps never more to 
embrace it in this world of wickedness and woe. 

About two hours before daybreak, on the morning after 
the departure of Golah, there was an alai*m in the douar, 
which created amongst the Arabs a wonderful excitement. 

The man who had been keeping guard over the camp was 
not to be seen ; and one of the fleetest camels, as well as a 
swift desert horse, was also gone. 

The slaves were instantly mustered, when it was found 
that one of them was likewise missing. It was Golah's 
dom 


206 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


His absence accounted for the loss of the camel, and per- 
haps the horse, but what had become of the Arab guard ? 

He certainly would not have absconded with the slave, 
for he had left valuable property behind him. 

There was no time for exchanging surmises over this mys- 
tery. Pursuit must be instantly made for the recovery of 
slave, camel, and horse. 

The Arab sheih detailed four of his followers to this duty, 
and they hastened to make ready for their departure. They 
would start as soon as the light of day should enable them 
to see the course the missing animals had taken. 

All believed that the fugitives would have to be sought for 
in a southerly direction ; and therefore the caravan would 
have to be further delayed in its journey. 

While making preparations for the pursuit, another un- 
pleasant discovery was made. Two ship’s muskets, that had 
been taken from Golah’s party were also missing. 

They had been extracted from a tent in which two of the 
Arabs had slept, — two of the four who were now preparing 
to search for the missing property. 

The sheik became alarmed. The camp seemed full of 
traitors ; and yet, as the guns were the private property of 
the two men who slept in the tent, they could not, for losing 
them, reasonably be accused of anything more than stupidity 

Contrary to the anticipations of all, the tracks of the lost 
animals were found to lead off in a north-westerly direction ; 
and at about two himdred yards from the camp a dark ob- 
ject was seen lying upon the ground. On examination it 
proved to be the Arab who had been appointed night-guard 
over the douar. 

• 

He was stone dead ; and by his si^e lay one of the miss- 
ing muskets, with the stock broken, and covered with his 
own brains. 

The tragedy was not difficult to be explained. The man 
had seen one or two of the hoppled animals straying from 


FATIMA’S FATE. 


207 


the camp. Not thinking that they were being led gently 
away, he had, without giving any alarm, gone out to bring 
them back. Golah’s son, who was leading them off, by 
keeping concealed behind one of the animals, had found an 
opportunity of giving the guard his death-blow, without any 
noise to disturb the slumbering denizens of the douar. 

No doubt he had gone to rejoin his father, and the adroit 
manner in which he had made his departure, taking with 
him a musket, a camel, and a horse, not only excited the 
wonder, but the admiration of those from whom he had 
stolen them. 

In the division of the slaves, young Harry Blount and 
the Krooman had become the property of the Arab sheik. 
The Krooman having some knowledge of the Arabic lan- 
guage, soon established himself in the good opinion of his 
new master. While the Arabs were discussing the most 
available mode to obtain revenge for the murder of their 
companion, as well as to regain possession of the property 
they had lost, the Krooman, skilled in- Golah’s character, 
volunteered to assist them by a little advice. 

• Pointing to the south, he suggested to them that, by going 
in that direction, they would certainly see or hear some- 
thing of Golah and his son. 

The sheik could the more readily believe this, since the 
country of the black chief lay to the southward, and Golah, 
on leaving the douar, had gone in that direction. 

But why did his dog of a son not go south ? ” inquired 
the Arabs, pointing to the tracks of the stolen horse, which 
still appeared to lead towards the northwest. 

If you go north,” replied the Krooman, “ you will bo 
sure to see Golah ; or if you stay here, you will learn some- 
thing of him ? ” 

“ What ! will he be in both directions at the same time, 
*nd here likewise ? ” 

" No, not that j but he will follow you.” 


208 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


The Arabs were willing to believe that there was a 
chance of recovering their property on the road they had 
been intending to follow, especially as the stolen horse and 
camel had been taken in that direction. 

They determined, therefore, to continue their journey. 

Too late they perceived their folly in treating Golah as 
they had done. He was now beyond their reach, and, in 
all likelihood, had been rejoined by his son. He was an ene- 
my against whom they would have to keep a constant watch ; 
and the thought of this caused the old Arab sheik to swear 
by the Prophet’s beard that he would never again show 
mercy to a man whom he had plundered. 

For about an hour after resuming their march, the foot- 
prints of the camel could be traced in the direction they 
wished to go ; but gradually they became less perceptible, 
until at length they were lost altogether. A smart breeze 
had been blowing, which had filled the tracks with sand, 
which was light and easily disturbed. 

Trusting to chance, and still with some hope of recover- 
ing the stolen property, they continued on in the same di- 
rection, and, not long after losing the tracks, they found 
some fresh evidence that they were going the right way. 

The old sheik, who was riding in advance of the others, 
on looking to the right, perceived an object on the sand that 
demanded a closer inspection. He turned and rode towards 
it, closely followed by the people of his party. 

On drawing near to the object it proved to be the body 
of a human being, lying back upwards, and yet with the face 
turned full towards the heavens. The features were at once 
recognized as those of Fatima, the favorite ! 

The head of the unfortunate woman had been severed 
from her body, and then placed contiguous to it, with the 
face in an inverted position. 

The ghastly spectacle was instructive. It proved that 
Golah, although going off southward, must have turned back 


FURTHER DEFECTION. 


209 


again, and was now not far off, hovering about the track he 
believed his enemies would be likely to take. His son, 
moreover, was, in all likelihood, along with him. 

When departing along with her husband, Fatima had 
probably anticipated the terrible fate that awaited her ; and, 
for that reason, had left her child in the care of the other 
wives. 

Neither of these seemed in the least surprised on discov- 
ering the body. Both had surmised that such would be 
Fatima’s fate ; and it was for that reason they had so wil- 
lingly taken charge of her child. 

The caravan made a short halt, which was taken advan- 
tage of by the two women to cover the body with sand. 

The journey was then resumed. 


CHAPTER LVII. 


FURTHER DEFECTION. 


OTWITHSTANDING that Golah’s brother-in-law, 



who had formerly been a freeman, was now a slave, 
he seemed well satisfied with the change in his circum- 
stances. 

He made himself very useful to his new masters in look- 
ing after the camel, and doing all the other necessary work 
which his knowledge of Saaran life enabled him effectually 
to execute. 

When the Arab caravan came to a halt on the evening 
of his first day’s journey along with it, he assisted in un- 
loading the camels, putting the hopples on them, pitching 
the tents, and doing anything else which was required to be 
done. 


N 


210 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


‘'While the other slaves were eating the small portion of 
food allowed them, one of the camels formerly belonging to 
Golah — a young and fleet maherry that had been ridden by 
Fatima, strayed a short distance from the douar. Seeing it, 
the black sheik’s brother-in-law, who had been making him- 
self so useful, ran after the animal as if to fetch it back. He 
was seen passing beyond the camel, as though he intended 
turning it toward the camp ; but in another instant it was 
discovered that he had no such design. The youth was 
seen to spring to the back of the maherry, lay hold of its 
hump, and ride rapidly away. Accustomed to hearing the 
sound of his voice, the faithful and intelligent animal obeyed 
his words of command. Its neck was suddenly craned out 
towards the north ; and its feet were flung forward in long 
strides that bore its rider rapidly away from the rest. The 
incident caused a tremendous commotion in the caravan. It 
was so wholly unexpected, that none of the Arabs were pre- 
pared to intercept the fugitive. The guard for the night 
had not been appointed. They were all seated on the 
ground, engaged in devouring their evening repast, and be- 
fore a musket could be discharged at the runaway, he had 
got so far into the glimmering twilight that the only effect of 
two or three shots flred after him was to quicken the pace of 
the maherry on which he was fleeing. 

Two fleet horses were instantly saddled and mounted, one 
by the owner of the camel that had been stolen, and the 
other by the owner of the slave who had stolen it. 

Each, arming himself with musket and scimitar, felt sure 
of recapturing the runaway. Their only doubt arose from 
the knowledge of the swiftness of the maherry, and that its 
rider was favored by the approaching darkness. 

The whole encampment was by this time under arms; 
and after the departure of the pursuers, the sheik gathered 
all the slaves together, apd swore by the beard of the 
Prophet that they shoqjd all be killed^ and that he would 


FURTHER DEFECTION. 


211 


eet the example by killing the two belonging to himself, 
which were Harry Blount and the Krooman. Several of 
his followers proceeded to relieve their excitement by each 
beating the slave or slaves that were his own property, and 
amongst these irate slave-owners was the master of Sailor 
Bill. The old man-o-war’s-man was cudgelled till his objec- 
tions to involuntary servitude were loudly expressed, and in 
the strongest terms that English, Scotch, and Irish could fur- 
nish for the purpose. 

When the rage of the old sheik had to some extent sub- 
sided, he procured a leathern thong, and declared that his 
two slaves should be fast bound, and never released as long 
as they remained in his possession. 

Talk to him,” exclaimed Harry to the ICrooman ; “ tell 
him, in his own language, that God is great, and that he is 
a fool ! We don’t wish to escape, — certainly not at pres- 
ent.” 

Thus counselled, the Krooman explained to the sheik that 
the white slaves, as well as himself, who had sailed in Eng- 
lish ships, had no intention of running away, but wished to 
be taken north, where they might be ransomed ; and that 
they were not such fools as to part from him in a place where 
they would certainly starve. The Krooman also informed 
the sheik that they were all very glad at being taken out of 
the hands of Golah, who would have carried them to Tim- 
buctoo, whence they never could have returned, but must 
have ended their days in slavery. 

While the Krooman was talking to the sheik, several of 
the others came up and listened. The black further in- 
formed them that the white slaves had friends living in Aga- 
deer and Swearah (Santa Cruz and Mogador), — friends 
who would pay a large price to ransom them. Why, then, 
should they try to escape while journeying towards the place 
where those friends were living ? 

The Krooman went on to say that the young man who 


212 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


had just made off was Golah’s brother-in-law ; that, unlike 
themselves, in going north he would not be seeking freedom 
but perpetual slavery, and for that reason he had gone to 
rejoin Golah and his son. 

This explanation seemed so reasonable to the Arabs, that 
their fears for the safety of their slaves soon subsided, and 
the latter were permitted to repose in peace. 

As a precautionary measure, however, two men were kept 
moving in a circle around the douar throughout the whole 
of the night ; but no disturbance arose, and morning returned 
without bringing back the two men who had gone in pursuit 
of the cunning runaway. 

The distance to the next watering-place was too great to 
admit of any delay being made ; and the journey was re- 
sumed, in the hope that the two missing men would be met 
on the way. 

This hope was realized. 

All along the route the old sheik, who rode in advance, 
kept scanning the horizon, not only ahead, but to the right 
and left of their course. About ten miles from their night’s 
halting-place he was seen to swerve suddenly from his 
course, and advance towards something that had attracted 
his attention. His followers hastened after him, — all ex- 
cept the two women and their children, who lingered a long 
way behind. 

Lying on the ground, their bodies contiguous to each 
other, were the two Arabs who had gone in pursuit of the 
runaway. 

They were both dead. 

One of them had been shot with a musket ball that had 
penetrated his skull, entering directly between his temples. 
The other had been cut down with a scimitar, his body be- 
ing almost severed in twain. 

The youth who had fled the night before, had evidently 
come up with Golah and his son; and the two men who 


FURTHER DEFECTION. 


213 


had pursued him had lost their lives, their animals, mus- 
kets, and scimitars. 

Golah now had two accomplices, and the three were well 
mounted and well armed. 

The anger of the Arabs was frightful to behold. They 
turned towards the two women whom they knew to be Go- 
lah’s wivfis. The latter had thrown themselves on their 
knees and were screaming and supplicating for mercy. 

Some of the Arabs would have killed them on the instant ; 
but were prevented by the old sheik, who, although himself 
wdd.with rage, had still sufficient reason left to tell him that 
tbft unfortunate women were not answerable for the acts of 
their husband. Our adventurers found reason to regret the 
misfortune that had befallen their new masters ; for they 
could not but regard with alarm the returning power of Go- 
lah. 

“We shall fall into his hands again,” exclaimed Terence. 
“ He will kill all these Arabs one after another, and obtain 
all he has lost, ourselves included. We shall yet be driven 
to Tirabuctoo.” 

“ Thc^n we should deserve it,” cried Harry, “ for it will 
partly be our own fault, if ever we fall into Golah’s power 
again.” 

“ I don’t think so,” said Bill, “ Golah is a wondersome 
man, and as got somethin’ more nor human natur’ to ’elp ’im. 
I think as ’ow if we should see ’im ’alf a mile off, signalizin’ 
for us to follow ’im, we should ’ave to go. I ’ve tried my 
hand at disobeyin’ his orders, and don’t do it again, — not if 
I knows it.” 

The expressions of anger hitherto portrayed on the coun- 
tenances of the Arabs, had given place to those of anxiety. 
They knew that an enemy was hovering around them, — an 
enemy whom they had wronged, — whose power they had 
undervalued, and whom they had foolishly restored to lib- 
erty. 


214 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


The bodies of their companions were ‘hastily interred m 
the sand, and their journey northward was once more re- 
sumed. 


CHAPTER LVIII. 

A CALL FOR TWO MORE. 

T he sufferings of the slaves for water and food again 
commenced, while the pace at which they were com- 
pelled to travel, to keep up with the camels, soon exhausted 
the little strength they had acquired from the rest by the 
well. 

During the long afternoon following the burial of the two 
Arabs, each of the boy slaves at different times declared his 
utter inability to proceed any farther. 

They were mistaken ; and had yet to learn something of 
the power which love of life exerts over the body. 

They knew that to linger behind would be death. They 
did not desire to die, and therefore struggled on. 

Like men upon a treadmill, they were compelled to keep 
on moving, although neither able nor willing. 

The hour of sunset found them wading through sand that 
had lately been stirred by a storm. It was nearly as light 
and loose as snow ; and the toil of moving through it was 
so wearisome, that the mounted Arabs, having some pity on 
those who had walked, halted early for the night. Two 
men were appointed to guard the camp in the same manner 
as upon the night before ; and with the feelings of hunger 
and thirst partly appeased, weary with the toils of day, our 
adventurers were soon in a sound slumber. Around them, 
and half-buried in the soft sand, lay stretched the other den- 
izens of the douar, all slumbering likewise. 


A CALL FOR TWO MORE. 


215 


Their rest remained undisturbed until that darkest hour 
of the night, just before the dawning of day. They were 
then startled from sleep by the report of a musket, — a re- 
port that was immediately followed by another in the op- 
posite direction. The douar was instantly in wild confusion. 

The Arabs seized their weapons, and rushed forth from 
among the tents. 

One of the party that ran in the direction in which the 
first shot was heard, seeing a man coming towards them, in 
the excitement of the moment fired his musket, and shot 
the individual who was advancing, who proved to be one of 
those entrusted with the guard of the camp. 

No enemies could be discovered. They had fled, leaving 
the two camp-guards in the agonies of death. 

Some of the Arabs would have rushed wildly hither and 
thither, in search of the unseen foe, but were prevented by 
the sheik, who, fearing that all would be lost, should the 
douar be deserted by the armed men, shouted the signal for 
all his followers to gather around him. 

The two wounded men were brought into a tent, where, 
in a few minutes, one of them — the man who had been shot 
by one of his companions — breathed his last. He had also 
received a wound from the first shot that had been heard, 
hi a right arm having been shattered by a musket-ball. 

The spine of the other guard had been broken by a bullet, 
so that recovery was clearly impossible. 

He had evidently heard the first shot fired at his compan- 
ion from the opposite side of the camp : and was turning his 
back upon the foe that had attacked himself. 

The light of day soon shone upon the scene, and they were 
able to perceive how their enemies had approached so near 
the camp without being observed. 

About a hundred paces from where the guards had been 
standing at the time the first two shots were fired, was a 
furrow or ravine running through the soft sand. 


216 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


This ravine branched into two lesser ones, including 
within their angle the Arab camp, as also the sentinels sta- 
tioned to guard it. 

Up the branches the midnight murderers had silently 
stolen, each taking a side ; and in this way had got within 
easy distance of the unsuspecting sentries. 

In the bottom of one of the furrows, where the sand was 
more firmly compacted, was found the impression of human 
footsteps. 

The tracks had been made by some person hurriedly leav- 
ing the spot. 

“ Dis be de track ob Golah,” said the Krooman to Harry, 
after he had examined it. “ He made um when runnin’ ’way 
after he fire da musket.” 

“ Very likely,” said Harry; “but how do you know it ia 
Golah’s track ? ” 

“ ’Cause Golah hab largess feet in all de world, and no 
feet but his make dat mark,” 

“ I tell you again,” said Terence, who overheard the Kroo- 
man’s remark, “ we shall have to go with Golah to Timbuc- 
too. We belong to him. These Arabs are only keeping us 
for a few days, but they will all be killed yet, and we shall 
have to follow the black sheik in the opposite direction.” 

Harry made no reply to this prophetic speech. Certain- 
ly, there was a prospect of its proving true. 

Four Arabs out of the eleven of which their party was 
originally composed, were already dead, while still another 
was dying! 

Sailor Bill pronounced Golah, with his son and brother- 
in-law, quite a match for the six who were left. The black 
sheik, he thought, was equal to any four of their present 
masters in strength, cunning, and determination. 

“ But the Arabs have us to help them,” remarked Colin. 
“We should count for something.” 

“ So we do, — as merchandise,” replied Harry ; “ we have 


A CALL FOR TWO MORE. 


217 


hitherto been helpless as children in protecting ourselves. 
What can we do ? The boasted superiority of our race or 
country cannot be true here in the desert. We are out of 
-*^our element.” 

‘‘ Yes, that ^s sartain ! ” exclaimed Bill ; “ but we ’re not 
far from it. Shiver my timbers if I don ’t smell salt water. 
Be Jabers ! if we go on towards the west we shall see the 
say afore night.” 

During this dialogue the Arabs were holding a consulta- 
tion as to what they should do. 

To divide the camp, and send some after their enemies, 
was pronounced impolitic: the party sent in pursuit, and 
that left to guard the caravan, — either would be too weak 
if attacked by their truculent enemy. 

In union alone was strength, and they resolved to remain 
together, believing that they should have a visit from Golah 
again, while better prepared to receive him. 

The footprints leading out from the two ravines were 
traced for about a mile in the direction they wished to 
follow. 

The tracks of camels and horses were there found ; and 
they could tell by the signs that their enemies had mounted 
and ridden off towards the west. 

They possibly might have avoided meeting Golah again 
by going eastward ; but, from their knowledge of the desert, 
no water was to be found in that direction in less than five 
days’ journey. 

Moreover, they did not yet wish to avoid him. They 
thirsted for revenge, and. were impatient to move on ; for a 
journey of two days was still before them before they could 
hope to arrive at the nearest water. 

When every preparation had been made to resume their 
route, there was one obstacle in the way of their taking an 
immediate departure. 

Their wounded companion was not yet defunct They 
10 


218 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


saw it would lx', impossible for him to live much longer ; for 
the lower part of his body, — all below the shattered portion 
of the spine, — appeared already without life. A few hours 
at most would terminate his sufferings ; but for the expira- 
tion of those few hours, — or minutes, as fate should decide, 
— his companions seemed unwilling to wait ! 

They dug a hole in the sand near where the wounded 
man was lying. This was but the work of a few minutes. 
As soon as the grave was completed, the eyes of all were 
once more turned upon the wretched sufferer. 

He was still alive, and by piteous moans expressing the 
agony he was enduring* 

“ Bismillah ! ’* exclaimed the old sheik, “ why do you not 
die, my friend ? We are waiting for the fulfilment of your 
destiny.” 

“ I am dead,” ejaculated the sufferer, speaking in a faint 
voice, and apparently with great difficulty. 

Having said this, he relapsed into silence, and remained 
motionless as a corpse. 

The sheik then placed one hand upon his temples. “ Yes ! ” 
he exclaimed, “ the words of our friend are those of truth and 
wisdom. He is dead.” 

The wounded man was then rolled into the cavity which 
had been scooped out, and they hastily proceeded to cover 
him with sand. 

As they did so, his hands were repeatedly uplifted, while 
a low moaning came from his lips ; but his movements were 
apparently unseen, and his cries of agony unnoticed ! 

His companions remained both deaf and blind to any 
evidence that might refute his own assertion that he was 
dead. 

The sand was at length heaped up, so as completely to 
cover his body, when, by an order from the old sheik, his 
followers turned away from the spot, and the Kafila moved 
on ! 


ONCE MORE BY THE SEA. 


219 


CHAPTER LIX. 

ONCE MORE BY THE SEA. 

S AILOR BILL’S conjecture that they were not far from 
the sea proved correct. 

On the evening of that same day they saw the sun sink 
down into a shining horizon, which they knew was not that 
of the burning sand-plain over which they had been so long 
moving. 

That faint and distant view of his favorite element was a 
joyful moment for the old sailor. 

“We are in sight of home ! ” he exclaimed. “ Shiver my 
timbers if I ever lose sight of it again ! I shan’t be buried in 
the sand. If I must go under alive, it shall be under water, 
like a Christyun. If I could swim, I’d start right off for 
Hold Hingland as soon as we get to yonder shore.” 

The boy slaves were alike inspired with hope and joy at 
the distant view. 

The sea was still too far off to be reached that night, and 
the douar was pitched about five miles from the shore. 

During this night, three of the Arabs were kept con- 
stantly on guard ; but the camp was not disturbed, and next 
morning they resumed their journey, some with the hope, and 
others with the fear, that Golah would trouble them no more. 

The Arabs wished to meet him during the hours of day- 
light, and secure the property they had lost ; and from their 
knowledge of the part of the desert they were now travers- 
ing, they were in hopes of doing this. They knew there 
was but one place within two days’ journey where fresh 
water could be obtained ; and should they succeed in reach- 
ing this place before Golah, they could lie in wait for his 
arrival. They were certain he must visit this watering' 
place to save his animals from perishing with thirst. 


220 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


At noonday a halt was made not far from the beacli. 
It was only for a short while ; for they were anxious to 
reach the well as soon as possible. The few minutes spent 
at the halting-place were well employed by the boy slaves 
in gathering shell-fish and bathing their bodies in the surf. 

Refreshed by this luxurious food, as well as by the wash- 
ing, of which they were greatly in need, they were able to 
proceed at a better pace ; so that about an hour before sun- 
set the caravan arrived at the well. 44) 

Just before reaching it, the old sheik and one of his com- 
panions had dismounted and walked forward to examine 
such tracks as might be found about the place. They were 
chagrined to find that Golah had been before. He had been 
to the well, and obtained a supply of water. His footmarks 
were easily identified. They were fresh, having been made 
but an hour or two before the arrival of the caravan ; and 
in place of their having to wait for Golah, he was undoubt- 
edly waiting for them. They felt sure that the black sheik 
was not far off*, watching for a favorable opportunity of again 
paying them a nocturnal visit. They could now understand 
why he had not attempted to molest them on the preceding 
night. He had been hastening forward, in order to reach 
the well in advance of them. 

The apprehensions of the Arabs became keener and 
keener after this discovery. They were also much puzzled 
as to what they should do ; and a diversity of opinion arose 
as to the best plan for guarding the camp against their im- 
placable foe. Some were in favor of staying by the well 
for several days, untH the supply of water which their ene- 
my had taken with him should be exhausted. Golah would 
then have to revisit the well, or perish of thirst upon the 
desert. The idea was an ingenious one, but unfortunately 
their stock of provisions would not admit of any delay, and 
it was resolved that the journey should be resumed at 
once. 


ONCE MORE BY THE SEA. 


221 


Just as they were preparing to move away from the well, 
a caravan of traders arrived from the south, and the old 
sheik made anxious inquiries as to whether the new-comers 
had seen any one on their route. The traders, to whom 
the caravan belonged, had that morning met three men who 
answered to the description of Golah and his companions. 
They were journeying south, and had purchased a small 
supply of food from the caravan. 

Could it be that Golah liad given up the hope of recover- 
ing his lost property ? relinquished his deadly purpose of 
revenge ? The Arabs professed much unwillingness to be- 
lieve it. Some of them loudly proposed starting southward 
in pursuit. But this proposition was overruled, and it was 
evident that the old sheik, as well as most of his followers, 
were in reality pleased to think that Golah would trouble 
them no more. ' 

The sheik decreed that the property of those who had 
perished should be divided amongst those who survived. 
This giving universal satisfaction, the Arab Kafila took its 
departure, leaving the caravan of the traders by the well, 
where they were intending to remain for some time longer. 

Shortly after leaving the well, the old sheik ordered a 
halt by the seashofe, where he stopped long enough for his 
slaves to gather some shell-fish, enough to satisfy the hun- 
ger of all his followers. 

A majority of the Arabs were under the belief that the 
black sheik had started at last for his own country — satis- 
fied with the revenge he had already taken. They seemed 
to think that keeping watch over the camp would no longer 
be necessary. 

With this opinion their Krooman captive did not agree ; 
and, fearing to fall again into the possession of Golah, he 
labored to convince his new master that they were as likely 
that night to receive a visit from the black sheik as they 
had ever been before. 


222 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


He argued that, if Golah had entertained a hope of de- 
feating his foes — eleven in number — when alone, and 
armed only with a scimitar, he certainly would not be likely 
to relinquish that hope after having succeeded in killing 
nearly half of them, and being strengthened by a couple of 
able assistants. 

The Krooman believed that Golah’s going south, — as 
reported by the party met at the well, — was proof that 
he really intended proceeding north ; and he urged the 
Arab sheik to set a good guard over the douar through the 
night. 

“ Tell him,” said Harry, “ if they are not inclined to keep 
guard for themselves, that we will stand it, if they will only 
allow us to have weapons of some kind or other.” 

The Krooman made this communication to the Arab sheik, 
who smiled only in reply. 

The idea of allowing slaves to guard an Arab douar, espe- 
cially to furnish them with fire-arms, was very amusing to 
the old chieftain of the Saara. 

Harry understood the meaning of his smile. It meant 
refusal ; but the young Englishman had also become im- 
pressed with the danger suggested by Terence, that Golah 
would yet kill the Arabs, and take the boy slaves back to 
Timbuctoo. 

“ Tell the sheik that he is an old fool,” said he to the in- 
terpreter ; “ tell him that we have a greater objection to fall- 
ing into the hands of Golah than he has of losing either us 
or his own life. Tell him that we wish to go north, where 
we can be redeemed ; and that for this reason alone we 
should be far more careful than any of his own people in 
g^^^arding the camp against surprise.” 

When this communication was made to the old sheik it 
seemed to strike him as having some reason in it ; and, con- 
vinced by the Krooman’s arguments that there was still dan- 
ger to be apprehended from Golah’s vengeance, he directed 


ONCE MORE BY THE SEA. 


223 


that ih8 douar should be strictly guarded, and that the white 
slaves might take part in the duty. 

“ You shall be taken north, and sold to your countrymen,’' 
promised he, “ if you give us no trouble in the transit. There 
are but few of my people left now, and it is hard for us to 
travel all day and keep watch all night. If you are really 
afraid of falling into the hafids of this Prophet-accursed 
negro, and will help us in guarding against his murderous 
attacks, you are welcome to do so ; but if any one of you 
attempt to play traitor, the whole four of you shall lose your 
heads. I swear it by the beard of the Prophet ! ” 

The Krooman assured him that none of the white slaves 
had any desire to deceive him, adding that self-interest, if 
nothing else^ would cause them to be true to those who 
would take them to a place where they would have a chance 
of being ransomed out of slavery. 

Darkness having by this time descended over the desert, 
the sheik set about appointing the guard for the night. He 
was too suspicious of his white slaves to allow all the four 
of them to act as guards at the same time, while he and his 
companions were asleep. He was willing, however, that 
one of them should be allowed to keep watch in company 
with one of his own followers. 

In choosing the individual for this duty, he inquired from 
the Krooman which of the four had been most ill-used by 
the black shiek. Sailor Bill was pointed out as the man, 
and the interpreter gave some details of the cruel treatment 
to which the old man-o’-war’s-man had been subjected at the 
hands of Golah. 

“ Bismillah ! that is well,” said the sheik. “ Let him 
keep the watch. After what you say, revenge should hin- 
der him from closing his eyes in sleep for a whole moon. 
There ’s no fear that he will betray us.” 


224 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER LX. 

■ GOLAH CALLS AGAIN. 

I N setting the watch for the night one of the sentinels was 
stationed on the shore about a hundred yards -north of 
the douar. His instructions were to walk a round of about 
two hundred paces, extending inward from the beach. 

Another was placed about the same distance south of the 
camp, and was to pace backwards and forwards after a simi- 
lar fashion. 

Sailor Bill was stationed on the land side of the camp, 
where he was to move to and fro between the beats of 
the two Arab guards, each of whom, on discovering him at 
the termination of his round, was to utter the word “ Aklca^* 
so that the sailor should distinguish them from an enemy. 

The Arabs themselves were supposed to be sufficiently 
intelligent to tell a friend from a foe without requiring any 
countersign. 

Before Bill was sent upon his beat, the • old sheik went 
into a tent, and soon after reappeared with a large pistol, 
bearing a strong likeness to a blunderbuss. This weapon 
he placed in the sailor’s hand, with the injunction — trans- 
lated to him by the interpreter — not to discharge it until 
he should be certain of killing either Golah or one of his 
companions. 

The old sailor, although sorely fatigued with the toil of 
the day’s journey, had so great a horror of again becoming 
the property of the black sheik, that he cheerfully promised 
to “ walk the deck all night, and keep a good lookout for 
breakers,” and his young companions sought repose in full 
confidence that the promise would be faithfully kept. 

Any one of the boy slaves would willingly have taken 
his place, and allowed their old comrade to rest for the 


GOL AH -CALLS AGAIN. 


22J 


night ; but Bill had been selected by the old sheik, and from 
his decree there was no appeal. 

The two Arabs doing duty as sentinels knew, from past 
experience, that if the Kafila was still followed by Golah, 
they would be the individuals most exposed to danger ; and 
this knowledge was sufficient to stimulate them to the most 
faithful discharge of their trust. 

Neither of them wished to become victims to the fate 
wffiich had befallen their predecessors in office. 

For two or three hours both paced slowly to and fro ; and 
Bill, each time he approached the end of his beat, could 
hear distinctly pronounced the word “AMa,” which proved 
that his co-sentinels were fully on the alert. 

It so chanced that one of them had no faith in the general 
belief that the enemy had relinquished his purposes san- 
guinary of vengeance. 

He drew his deductions from Golah’s conduct in the past, 
and during the long silent hours of the night his fancy was 
constantly dwelling on the manner in which the dreaded 
enemy had approached the douar on former occasions. 

This sentry was the one stationed to the south of the 
douar ; and with eyes constantly striving to pierce the dark- 
ness that shrouded the sand plain, the water, on which a 
better light was reflected, received no attention from him. 
He believed the douar well protected on the side of the sea, 
for he had no idea that danger could come from that direc- 
tion. 

He was mistaken. 

Had their enemies been, like himself and his compan- 
ions, true children of the Saara, his plan of watching for 
their approach might have answered well enough ; but the 
latter chanced to be the offspring of a different country and 
race. 

About three hours after the watch had been established, 
the sentinel placed on the southern side of the douar 
10* o 


226 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


was being closely observed by the black sheik, yet knew it 
not. 

Golah had chosen a singular plan to secure himself 
against being observed, similar to that selected by the three 
mids for the like purpose soon after their being cast away 
upon the coast. 

He had stolen into the water, and with only his woolly 
occiput above the surface, had approached within a few yards 
of the spot where the Arab sentry turned upon his round. 

In the darkness of the night, at the distance of twelve or 
fifteen paces, he might have been discovered, had a close 
survey been made of the shining surface. But there w'as 
no such survey, and Golah watched the sentinel, himself 
unseen. 

The attention of the Arab was wholly occupied in looking 
for the approach of a foe from the land side ; and while he 
was in continual fear of hearing the report of a musket, or 
feeling the stroke of its bullet. 

This disagreeable surprise he never expected could come 
from the sea, but was so fully anticipated from the land, that 
he paid but little or no attention to the restless waves that 
were breaking with low moans against the beach. 

As he turned his back upon the water for the hundredth 
time, with the intention of walking to the other end of his 
beat, Golah crept gently out of the water and hastened after 
him. 

The deep sighing of the waves against the shingly shore 
hindered the sound of footsteps from being heard. 

Golah was only armed with a scimitar ; but it was a wea- 
pon that, in his hands, was sure to fall with deadly effect. 
It was a weapon of great size and weight, having been made 
expressly for himself; and with this upraised, he silently 
but swiftly glided after the unconscious Arab. 

Adding the whole strength of his powerful arm to the 
weight of the weapon, the black sheik brought its sharp 


GOLAH CALLS AGAIN. 


227 


edge slantingly down upon the neck of the unsuspecting 
sentinel. 

With a low moan, that sounded in perfect harmony with 
the sighing of the waves, the Arab fell to the earth, leaving 
his musket in the huge hand his assassin had stretched forth 
to grasp it. Putting the gun to full cock, Golah walked on 
in the direction in which the sentry had been going. He 
intended next to encounter the man who was guarding the 
eastern side of the douar. Walking boldy on, he took no 
trouble to avoid the sound of his footsteps being heard, be- 
lieving that he would be taken for the sentry he had just 
slain. After going about a hundred paces without seeing 
any one, he paused, and with his large fiercely gleaming 
eyes strove to penetrate the surrounding gloom. Still no 
one was to be seen, and he laid himself along the earth to 
listen for footfalls. 

Nothing could be heard ; but after glancing for some mo- 
ments along the ground, he saw a dark object outlined above 
the surface. Unable, from the distance, to form a correct 
idea of what it was, he cautiously advanced towards it, keep- 
ing on all fours, till he could see that the object was a hu- 
man being, prostrate on the ground, and apparently listening, 
like himself. Why should the man be listening ? Not to 
note the approach of his companion, for that should be ex- 
pected without suspicion, as his attitude would indicate. He 
might be asleep, reasoned Golah. If so. Fortune seemed to 
favor him, and with this refiection he steadily moved on to- 
wards the prostrate form. 

Though the latter moved not, still Golah was not quite 
sure that the sentry was asleep. Again he paused, and for 
a moment fixed his eyes on the body with a piercing gaze. 
If the man was not sleeping, why should he allow an enemy 
to approach so near ? Why lie so quietly, without showing 
any sign or giving an alarm ? If Golah could despatch this 
sentinel as he had done the other, without making any noise. 


228 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


he would, along with his two relatives (who were waiting 
the result of his adventure), afterwards steal into the douar, 
and all he had lost might be again recovered. 

The chance was worth the risk, so thought Golah, and 
silently moved on. 

As he drew nearer, he saw that the man was lying on his 
side, with his face turned towards him, and partly concealed 
by one arm. 

The black sheik could see no gun in his hands, and con- 
sequently there would be but little danger in an encounter 
with him, if such should chance to arise. 

Golah grasped the heavy scimitar in his right hand, evi- 
dently intending to despatch his victim as he had done the 
other, with a single blow. 

The head could be severed from the body at one stroke, 
and no alarm would be given to the slumbering camp. 

The heavy blade of shining steel was raised aloft ; and 
the gripe of the powerful hand clutching its hilt became 
more firm and determined. 

Sailor Bill ! has your promise to keep a sharp lookout 
been broken so soon ? 

Beware! Golah is near with strength in his arm, and 
murder in his mind! 


CHAPTER LXI. 

SAILOR BILL STANDING SENTRY. 

A fter two hours had been passed in moving slowly 
to and fro, hearing the word and seeing noth- 

ing but gray sand. Sailor Bill began to feel weary, and no\y 
regretted that the old sheik had honored him with his confi- 
dence. 


SAILOR BILL STANDING SENTRY. 


229 


For the first hour of his watch he had kept a good look- 
out to the eastward, and had given the whole of his attention 
to his sentinel’s duty. 

Gradually his intense alertness forsook him, and he began 
to think of the past and future. 

Themes connected with these subjects seldom troubled 
Bill, — his thoughts generally dwelling upon the present; 
but, in the darkness and solitude in which he was now placed, 
there was but little of the present to arrest his attention. 
For the want of something else to amuse his mind, it was 
turned to the small cannon he was carrying in his hand. 

‘‘ This ’ere thing,” thought he, ‘‘ aint o’ much use as a pis- 
tol, though it might be used as a war-club at close quarters. 
I hope I shan’t ’ave to fire it hoff. The barrel is thin, and 
the bullet hinside it must be a’most as large as an ’en’s heg. 
It ud be like enough to bust. Preaps ’t aint loaded, and may 
’ave been given to me for amusement. I may as well make 
sure about that.” 

After groping about for some time, the sailor succeeded 
in finding a small piece of stick, with which he measured the 
length of the barrel on the outside ; then, by inserting the 
stick into the muzzle, he found that the depth of the barrel 
was not quite equal to its length. 

There must be something inside therefore, but he was pos- 
itive there was no ball. He next examined the pan, and 
found the priming all right. 

‘‘ I see ’ow ’t is,” muttered he, “ the old sheik only wants 
me to make a row with it, in case I sees anything as is sus- 
picious. He was afeard to put a ball in it lest I should be 
killin’ one of themselves. That ’s his confidence. He on’y 
wants me to bark without being able to bite. But this don’t 
suit me at all, at all. Faix, I ’ll find a bit of a stone and 
ram it into the barrel.” 

Saying this he groped about the ground in search of a 
pebble of the proper size ; but for some time could find none* 


230 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


to his liking. He could lay his hand on nothing but the 
finest sand. 

While engaged in this search he fancied he heard some 
one approaching from the side opposite to that in which he 
was expecting to hear the word “ Akka.** 

He looked in that direction, but could see nothing save 
the gray surface of the sea-beach. 

Since being on the desert Bill had several times observed 
the Arabs lay themselves along the earth to listen for the 
sound of footsteps. This plan he now tried himself. 

With his eyes close to the ground, the old sailor fancied 
he was able to see to a greater distance than when standing 
upright. There seemed to be more light on the surface of 
the earth than at four or five feet above it ; and objects in 
the distance were placed more directly between his eyes and 
the horizon. 

While thus lying extended along the sand, he heard foot- 
steps approaching from the shore ; but, believing they were 
those of the sentinel, he paid no attention to them. He only 
listened for a repetition of those sounds he fancied to have 
come from the opposite direction. 

But nothing was now heard to the eastward; and he 
came to the conclusion that he had been deceived by an ex- 
cited fancy. 

Of one thing, however, he soon became certain. It was, 
that the footsteps which he supposed to be those of the Arab 
who kept, what Bill called, the “larboard watch,” were 
drawing nearer than usual, and that the word ^^Akka ” was 
not pronounced as before. 

The old sailor slewed himself around, and directed hia 
gaze towards the shore. 

The sound of footsteps was no longer heard, but the figure 
of a man was perceived at no great distance from the spot. 

He was not advancing nearer, but standing erect, and ap- 
parently gazing sharply about him. 


SAILOR BILL STANDING SENTRY. 


231 


Could this man be the Arab sentinel ? 

The latter was known to be short and of slight frame, 
while the man now seen appeared tall and of stout build, 
lustead of remaining in his upright attitude, and uttering, as 
the sentry should have done, the word “ AMa,” the stranger 
was seen to stoop down, and place his ear close to the earth 
as if to listen. 

During a moment or two while the man^s eyes appeared 
to be turned away from him, the sailor took the precaution 
to fill the barrel of his pistol with sand. 

Should he give the alarm by firing off the pistol, and then 
run towards the camp ? 

No ! he might have been deceived by an excited imagina- 
tion. The individual before him might possibly be the 
Arab guard trying to discover his presence before giving 
the sign. 

While the sailor was thus undecided, the huge form drew 
nearer, approaching on all fours. It came within eight or 
ten paces of the spot, and then slowly assumed an upright 
position. Bill now saw it was not the sentinel but the black 
Bheik ! 

The old man-o*-war’s-man was never more frightened in 
his life. He thought of discharging the pistol, and running 
back to the douar ; but then came the thought that he would 
certainly be shot down the instant he should rise to his feet ; 
and fear held him motionless. 

Golah drew nearer and nearer, and the sailor seeing 
#he scimitar uplifted suddenly formed the resolution to 
fict. 

Projecting the muzzle of his huge pistol towards the 
black, he pulled the trigger, and at the same instant sprang 
to his feet. 

There was a loud deafening report, followed by a yell of 
jFild agony. 

Bill stayed not to note the effect of his fire : but ran as 


232 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


fast as his legs would carry him towards the camp, — already 
alarmed by the report of the pistol. 

The Arabs were running to and fro in terrible fear and 
confusion, shouting as they ran. 

Amidst these shouts was heard, — in the direction from 
which the sailor had fled, — a loud voice frantically calling, 
“ Muley ! Muley ! ” 

“ ’T is the voice of Golah ! ” exclaimed the Krooman in 
Arabic. “ He is calling for his son, — Muley is his son’s 
name ! ” 

“ They are going to attack the douar,” shouted the Arab 
sheik, and his words were followed by a scene of the wildest 
terror. 

The Arabs rushed here and there, mingling their cries 
with those of the slaves ; while women shrieked, children 
screamed, dogs barked, horses neighed, and even the quiet 
camels gave voice to their alarm. 

In the confusion the two wives of Golah, taking their chil- 
dren along with them, hurried away from the camp, and 
escaped undiscovered in the darkness. 

They had heard the voice of the father of their children, 
and understood that accent of anguish in which he had called 
out the name of his son. 

They were women, — women who, although dreading 
tlieir tyrant husband in his day of power, now pitied him in 
his hour of misfortune. 

The Arabs, anxiously expecting the appearance of their 
enemy, in great haste made ready to meet him ; but they 
were left unmolested. 

In a few minutes all was quiet : not a sound was heard 
in the vicinity of the douar ; and the late alarm might have 
appeared only a panic of groundless fear. 

The light of day was gradually gathering in the east when 
the Arab sheik, recovering from his excitement, ventured to 
make an examination of the douar and its denizens. 


GOLAH FULFILS HIS DESTINY. 


233 


Two important facts presented themselves as evidence, 
that the fright they had experienced was not without a 
cause. The sentry who had been stationed to guard the 
camp on its southern side was not present, and Golah’s two 
wives and their children were also absent ! 

There could be no mystery about the disappearance of 
the women. They had gone to rejoin the man whose voice 
had been heard calling “Muley.” 

But where was the Arab sentry? Had another of the 
party fallen a victim to the vengeance of Golah ? 


CHAPTER LXII 


GOLAH FULFILS HIS DESTINY. 



A KING the Krooman by one arm, the Arab sheik led 


i him up to the old man-o’-war’s-man, who, sailor-like, 
having finished his watch, had gone to sleep. 

After being awakened by the sheik, the Krooman was told 
to ask the white man why he fired his pistol. 

‘‘ Why, to kill Golah, — the big nager ! ” answered Bill ; 
^ an’ I ’m mighty desaved if I ’ave not done it.” 

This answer was communicated to the sheik, who had the 
art of expressing unbelief with a peculiar smile, which he 
now practised. 

Bill was asked if he had seen the black sheik. 

“ Seen him ! sartinly I did,” answered the sailor. ‘‘ He 
was not more nor four paces from me at the time I peppered 
*im. I tell you he is gone and done for.” 

The sheik shook his head, and again smiled incredu^ 
iously. 

Further inquiries were interrupted by the discovery of 


234 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


the body of the Arab sentinel whom Golah had killed, and 
all clustered around it. 

The man’s head was nearly severed from his body ; and 
the blow — which must have caused instant death — had 
evidently been given by the black sheik. Near the corpse, 
tracks were observed in the sand such as no other human 
being but Golah could have made. 

It was now broad daylight ; and the Arabs, glancing along 
the shore to southward, made another discovery. 

Two camels with a horse were seen upon the beach about 
half a mile off ; and, leaving one of their number to guard 
the douar, the old sheik with his followers started off in 
the hope of recovering some of the property they had 
lost. 

They were followed by most of the slaves ; who, by the 
misfortunes of their master, were under less restraint. 

On arriving near the place where the camels were, the 
young man we have described as Golah’s brother-in-law, 
was found to be in charge of them. He was lying on the 
ground ; but on the approach of the Arabs, he sprang to his 
feet, at the same time holding up both his hands. 

He carried no weapon ; and the gesture signified, “ It is 
peace.” 

The two women, surrounded by their children, were near 
by, sitting silent and sorrowful on the sea-beach. They 
took no heed of the approach of th*e Arabs; and did not 
even look up as the latter drew near. 

The muskets and other weapons were lying about. One 
of the camels was down upon the sand. It was dead ; and 
the young negro was in the act of eating a large piece of 
raw flesh he had severed from its hump. 

The Arab sheik inquired after Golah. He to whom the 
inquiry was directed, pointed to the sea, where two dark 
bodies were seen tumbling about in the surf as it broke 
against the shingle of the beach, 


GOLAH FULFILS HIS DESTINY. 


235 


The three midshipmen, at the command of the sheik, 
waded in, and dragged the bodies out of the water. 

They were recognized as those of Golah and his son, 
Muley. 

Golah’s face appeared to have been frightfully lacerated ; 
and his once large fierce eyes were altogether gone. 

The brother-in-law was called on to explaint the myste- 
rious death of the black sheik and his son. 

His explanation was as follows: — 

“ I heard Golah calling for Muley after hearing the report 
of a gun. From that I knew that he was wounded. Muley 
ran to assist him, while I stayed behind with the horse and 
camels. I am starving I Very soon Muley came running 
back, followed by his father, who seemed possessed of an 
evil spirit. He ran this way and that way, swinging his 
scimitar about, and trying to kill us both as well as the 
camels. He could not see, and we managed to keep out of 
his way. I am starving ! ” 

The young negro here paused, and, once more picking up 
the piece of camel’s fiesh, proceeded to devour it with an 
alacrity that proved the truth of his assertion. 

“ Pig ! ” exclaimed the sheik, “ tell your story first, and 
eat afterwards.” 

‘‘ Praise be to Allah ! ” said the youth, as he resumed his 
narrative, ‘‘ Golah ran against one of the camels and killed 
it.” 

His listeners looked towards the dead camel. They saw 
that the body bore the marks of Golah’s great scimitar. 

After killing the camel,” continued the young man, “ the 
sheik became quiet. The evil spirit had passed out of him ; 
and he sat down upon the sand. Then his wives came up 
to him ; and he talked to them kindly, and put his hands 
on each of the children, and called them by name. They 
screamed when they looked at him, and Golah told them 
not to be frightened; that he would wash his face and 


236 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


frighten them no more. The little boy led him to the water, 
and he rushed into the sea as far as he eould wade. He 
went there to die. Muley ran after to bring him out, and 
they were both drowned. I could not help them, for I was 
starving ! ” 

The emaciated appearance of the narrator gave strong 
evidence oit the truth of the concluding words of his story. 
For nearly a week he had been travelling night and day, 
and the want of sleep and food could not have been much 
longer endured. 

At the command of the Arab chief, the slaves now buried 
the bodies of Golah and his son. 

Gratified at his good fortune, in being relieved from all 
further trouble with his implacable foeman, the sheik deter- 
mined to have a day of rest, which to his slaves was very 
welcome, as was also the flesh of the dead camel, now gives 
them to eat. 

About the death of Golah there was still a mystery the 
Arabs could not comprehend ; and the services of the Kroo- 
man as interpreter were again called into requisition. 

When the sheik learnt what the sailor had done, — how 
the pistol had been made an effective weapon by filling the 
barrel with sand, — he expressed much satisfaction at the 
manner in which the old man-o’-war’s-man had performed 
his duty. 

Full of gratitude for the service thus rendered him, he 
promised that not only the sailor himself, but the boy slaves, 
his companions, should be taken to Mogador, and restored to 
their friends. 


ON THE EDGE OF THE SAARA. 


237 


CHAPTER LXIII. 


ON THE EDGE OP THE SAARA. 



FTER a journey of two long dreary days — days that 


were to the boy slaves periods of agonizing torture, 
from fatigue, hunger, thirst, and exposure to a burning sun 
— the kafila arrived at another watering-place. 

As they drew near the place, our adventurers perceived 
that it was the same where they had first fallen into the 
hands of Golah. 

“ May God help us ! ” exclaimed Harry Blount, as they 
approached the place. ‘‘We have been here before. We 
shall find no water, I fear. We did not leave more than 
two bucketfuls in^ the hole ; and as there has been no rain 
since, that must be dried up, long ago. 

An expression of hopeless despair came over the coun- 
tenances of his companions. They had seen, but a few days 
before, nearly all the water drawn out of the pool, and given 
to the camels. 

Their fears were soon removed, and followed by the real 
gratification of a desire they had long been indulging — the 
desire to quench their thirst. There was plenty of water in 
the pool — a heavy deluge of rain having fallen over the 
little valley since they had left it. * 

The small supply of food possessed by the travellers 
w'ould not admit of their making any delay at this watering- 
place ; and the next morning the journey was resumed. 

The Arabs appeared to bear no animosity towards the 
young man who had assisted Golah in killing their compan- 
ions ; and now that the black sheik was dead, they had no 
fear that the former would try to escape. The negro was 
one of those human beings who cannot own themselves, and 
who never feel at home unless with some one to control 


238 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


them. He quietly took his place along with the other 
slaves, — apparently resigned to his fate, — a fate that 
doomed him to perpetual slavery, though a condition but lit- 
tle lower than that he had occupied with his brother-in-law. 

Eight days were now passed in journeying in a direction 
that led a little to the east of north. 

To the white slaves they were days of indescribable ago- 
ny, from those two terrible evils that assail all travellers 
through the Saara, — hunger and thirst. Within the dis- 
tance passed during these eight days they found but one 
watering-place, where the supply was not only small in 
quantity but bad in quality. 

It was a well, nearly dried up, containing a little water, 
offensive to sight and smell, and only rendered endurable to 
taste by the irresistible power of thirst. 

The surface of the pool was covered nearly an inch thick 
with dead insects, which had to be removed to reach the 
discolored element beneath. They were not only compelled 
to use, but were even thankful to obtain, this impure bev- 
erage. 

The route followed during these eight days was not along 
the seashore ; and they were therefore deprived of the 
opportunity of satisfying their hunger with shell-fish. The 
Arabs were in haste to reach some place where they could 
procure food for their animals, and at the pace at which 
they rode forward, it required the utmost exertion on the 
part of their slaves to keep up with them. 

The old man-o’-war’s-man, unused to land travelling, could 
never have held out, had not the Arabs allowed him, part of 
the time, to ride on a camel. The feat he had performed, in 
ridding them of that enemy who had troubled them so much 
— and who, had he not been thwarted in his attack upon tho . 
camp, would probably have killed them all — had inspired 
his masters with some slight gratitude. The sailor, there- 
fore, was permitted to ride, when they saw that otherwise 


ON THE EDGE OF THE SAARA. 


• 239 


they would have to leave him behind to die upon the des- 
ert. 

During the last two days of the eight, our adventurers 
noticed something in the appearance of the country, over 
which they were moving, that inspired them with hope. The 
face of the landscape became more uneven ; while here and 
there stunted bushes and weeds were seen, as if struggling 
between life and death. 

The kafila had arrived on the northern border of the 
great Saara; and a few days more would bring them to 
green fields, shady groves, and streams of sparkling water. 

Something resembling the latter was soon after discovered. 
At the close of the eighth day they reached the bed of what 
appeared to be a river recently dried up. Although there 
was no current they found some pools of stagnant water: 
and beside one of these the douar was established. 

On a hill to the north were growing some green shrubs 
to which the camels were driven ; and upon these they im- 
mediately commenced browsing. Not only the leaves, but 
the twigs and branches were rapidly twisted off by the long 
prehensile lips of the animals, and as greedily devoured. 

It was twilight as the camp had been fairly pitched ; and 
just then two men were seen coming towards them leading 
a camel. They were making for the pools of water, for 
the purpose of Idling some goat skins which were carried 
on their camel. They appeared both surprised and annoyed 
to find the pools in possession of strangers. 

Seeing they could not escape observation, the men camo 
boldly forward, and commenced filling their goat-skins. 
While thus engaged they told the Arab sheik that they be- 
longed to a caravan near at hand that was journeying south- 
ward; and that they should continue their journey early 
the next morning. 

After the departure of the two men the Arabs held a 
consultation. 


240 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


“ They have told us a lie,” remarked the old sheik, they 
are not on a journey, or they would have halted here by 
the water. By the beard of our Prophet they have spoken 
falsely ! ” 

With this opinion his followers agreed ; and it was sug- 
gested that the two men they had seen were of some party 
encamped by the seashore, and undoubtedly amusing them- 
selves with a wreck, or gathering wealth in some other un- 
usual way. 

Here was an opportunity not to be lost ; and the Arabs 
determined to have a share in whatever good fortune Provi- 
dence might have thrown in the way of those already upon 
the ground. If it should prove to be a wreck there might 
be serious difficulty with those already in possession ; it was 
resolved, therefore, to wait for the morning, when they could 
form a better opinion of their chances of success, should a 
conffict be necessary to secure it 


CHAPTER LXIV. 

THE RIVAL WRECKERS. 

E arly next moming the kafila was en route for the 
seashore, which was discovered not far distant. On 
coming near a douar of seven tents was seen standing 
upon the beach : and several men stepped forward to re- 
ceive them. 

The usual salutations were exchanged, and the new com- 
ers began to look about them. Several pieces of timber 
lying along the shore gave evidence that their conjecture, 
as to a wreck having taken place, had been a correct one. 

“ There is but one God, and He is kind to us all,” said 


THE RIVAL WRECKERS. 


241 


the old sheik ; “ He casts the ships of unbelierers on cnr 
shores, and we have come to claim a share of His favors.” 

“ You are welcome to all you can justly claim,” answered 
a tall man, who appeared to be the leader of the party of 
wreckers. “ Mahomet is the prophet of Him who sends 
favors to all, both good and bad. If he has sent anything 
for you, look along the sea-beach and find it.” 

On this invitation the camels of the kafila were unloaded, 
and the tents pitched. The new-comers then set about 
searching for the debris of the wrecked vessel. 

They discovered only some spars, and other pieces of 
shfp-timbers, which were of no value to either party. 

A consultation now took place between the old sheik and 
his followers. They were unanimous in the belief that a 
sunken ship was near them, and that they had only to watch 
the rival wreckers, and learn where she was submerged. 

Desisting from^their search, they resolved to keep a look- 
out. 

When this determination became known to the other 
party, its chief, after conferring with his companions, came 
forward, and, announcing himself as the representative of 
his people, proposed a conference. 

“I am Sidi Hamet,” said he, “and the others you see 
here are my friends and relatives. We are all members of 
the same family, and faithful followers of the Prophet. God 
is great, and has been kind to us. He has sent us a prize. 
We are about to gather the gifts of His mercy. Go your 
way, and leave us in peace.” 

“ I am Rias Abdallah Yezzed,” answered the old sheik, 
“ and neither my companions nor myself are so bad but 
that we, too, may be numbered among those who are entitled 
to God’s favor, when it pleases Him to cast on our shores 
the ships of the infidel.” 

In rejoinder Sidi Hamet entered upon a long harangue ; in 
which he informed the old sheik that in the event of a ves- 


242 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


sel having gone to pieces, and the coast having been strown 
with merchandise, each party would have been entitled to 
all it could gather ; but unfortunately for both, those pleas- 
ant circumstances did not now exist ; although it was true, 
that the hul^ of a vessel, containing a cargo that could not 
wash ashore was lying under water near by. They had dis- 
covered it, and therefore laid claim to all that it contained. 

Sidi Hamet’s party was a strong one, consisting of seven- 
teen men ; and therefore could afford to be communicative 
without the least danger of being disturbed in their plans 
and prospects. 

They acknowledged that they had been working ten days 
in clearing the cargo out of the sunken vessel, and that their 
work was not yet half done — the goods being very difficult 
to get at 

The old sheik inquired of what the cargo consisted ; but 
could obtain no satisfactory answer. 

Here was a mystery. Seventeen men had been fourteen 
days unloading the hulk of a wrecked ship, and yet no arti- 
cles of merchandise were to be seen near the spot ! 

A few casks, some pieces of old sail, with a number ot 
cooking utensils that bad belonged to a ship’s galley, lay 
upon the beach; but these could not be regarded as forming 
any portion of the cargo of a ship. 

The old sheik and his followers were in a quandary. 

They had often heard of boxes full of money having been 
obtained from wrecked ships. 

Sailors cast away upon their coast had been known to 
bury such commodities, and afterwards under torture to re- 
veal die spot where the interment had been made. 

Had this vessel, on which the wreckers were engaged, 
been freighted with money, and had the boxes been buried 
as soon as brought ashore ? 

It was possible, thought the new comers. They must 
wait and learn ; and if there was any means by which they 


THE RIVAL WRECKERS. 


243 


• 

could claim a share in the good fortune of those who had 
first discovered the wreck, those means must be adopted. 

The original discoverers were too impatient to stay pro- 
ceedings till their departure ; and feeling secure in the supe- 
riority of numbers, they recommenced their task of dis- 
charging the submerged hulk. 

They advanced to the water’s edge, taking along with 
them a long rope that had been found attached to the spars. 
At one end of this rope they had made a running noose, 
which was made fast to a man, who swam out with it to the 
distance of about a hundred yards. 

The swimmer then dived out of sight. He had gone be- 
low to visit the wreck, and attach the rope to a portion of 
the cargo. 

A minute after his head was seen above the surfaee, and 
a shout was sent forth. Some of his companions on the 
beach now commenced hauling in the rope, the other end 
of which had been left in their hands. 

When the noose was pulled ashore, it was found to em- 
brace a large block of sandstone, weighing about twenty-five 
or thirty pounds ! 

The Krooman had already informed Harry Blount and 
his companions of something he had learnt from the conver- 
sation of the wreckers ; and the three mids had been watch- 
ing with considerable interest the movements of the diver 
and his assistants. 

When the .block of sandstone was dragged up on the 
beach, they stared at each other with expressions of pro- 
found astonishment. 

No wonder : the wreckers were employed in clearing the 
ballast out of a sunken ship ! 

What could be their object ? Our adventurers could not 
guess. Nor, indeed, could the wreckers themselves have 
given a good reason for undgergoing such an amount of lu- 
dicrous labor. 


244 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Why they had not told the old sheik what sort of cargo 
they were saving from the wreck, was because tliey had no 
certain knowledge of its value, or what in reality it was 
they were taking so much time and trouble to get safely 
ashore. 

As they believed that the white slaves must have a per- 
fect knowledge of the subject upon which they were them- 
selves so ignorant, they closely scanned the countenances 
of the latter as the block of ballast was drawn out upon the 
dry sand. 

They were rewarded for their scrutiny. 

The surprise exhibited by Sailor Bill and the three mids 
confirmed the wreckers in their belief that they were saving 
something of grand value ; for, in fact, had the block of 
sandstone been a monstrous nugget of gold, the boy slaves 
could not have been more astonished at beholding it. 

Their behavior increased the ardor of the salvors in the 
pursuit in which they were engaged, along with the envy of 
the rival party, who, by the laws of the Saaran coast, were 
not allowed to participate in their toil. 

The Krooman now endeavored to undeceive his master as 
to the value of the “ salvage,” — telling him that what their 
rivals were taking out of the sunken ship was nothing but 
worthless stone. 

But his statement was met with a smUe of incredulity. 
Those engaged in getting the ballast ashore regarded the 
Krooman’s statements with equal contempt. He was either 
a liar or a fool, and therefore unworthy of the least atten- 
tion. With this reflection they went on with their work. 

After some time spent in reconsidering the subject, the 
old sheik called the Krooman aside ; and when out of hear- 
ing of the wreckers, asked him to give an explanation of 
the real nature of what he himself persisted in calling the 
« cargo ” of the wreck, — as well as a true statement of 
its value. 


ANOTHER WHITE SLAVE. 


245 


The slave did as he was desired ; but the old sheik only 
shook his head, once more declaring his incredulity. 

He had never heard of a ship that did not carry a cargo 
of something valuable. He thought that no men would be 
so stupid and foolish as to go from one country to another 
in ships loaded only with worthless stones. 

As nothing else in the shape of cargo was found aboard 
the wreck, the stones must be of some value. So argued 
the Arab. 

While the Krooman was trying to explain the real pur- 
pose for which the stones had been placed in the hold of the 
vessel, one of the wreckers came up and informed him that 
a white man was in one of their tents, that he was ill, and 
wished to see and converse with the infidel slaves, of whose 
arrival he had just heard. 

The Krooman communicated this piece of intelligence to 
our adventurers ; and the tent that contained the sick white 
man having been pointed out to them, they at once started 
towards it, expecting to see some unfortunate countryman, 
who, like themselves, had been cast away on the inhospita- 
ble shores of the Saara. 


CHAPTER LXV. 

ANOTHER WHITE SLAVE. 

O N entering within the tent to which they had been 
directed, they found, lying upon the ground, a man 
about forty years of age. Although he appeared a mere 
skeleton, consisting of little more than skin and bones, he 
did not present the general aspect of a man suffering from 
ill health ; nor yet would he have passed for a white man 
anywhere out of Africa. 


246 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


“You are the first English people IVe seen for ovef 
thirty years,” said he, as they entered the tent : “ for I cac 
tell by your looks that every one of you are English. You 
are my countrymen. I was white once myself; and you 
will be as black as I am when you have been sun-scorched 
here for forty-three years, as I have been.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Terence ; “ have you been a slave 
in the Saara so long as that ? If so, God help us ! What 
hope is there of our ever getting free ? ” 

The young Irishman spoke in a tone of despair. 

“ Very little chance of your ever seeing home again, my 
lad,” answered the invalid ; “ but /have a chance now, if you 
and your comrades don’t spoil it. For God’s sake don’t tell 
these Arabs that they are the fools they are for making 
salvage of the ballast. If you do, they ’ll be sure to make 
an end of me. It ’s all my doing. I ’ve made them believe 
the stones are valuable, so that they may take them to some 
place where I can escape. It is the only chance I have had 
for years, — don’t destroy it, as you value the life of a fellow- 
countryman.” 

From further conversation with the man, our adventurers 
learned that he had been shipwrecked on the coast many 
years before, and had ever since been trying to get trans- 
ported to some place where he might be ransomed. He de- 
clared that he had been backward and forward across the 
desert forty or fifty times ; and that he had belonged to not 
less than fifty masters ! 

“ I have only been with these fellows a few weeks,” said 
he, “ and fortunately when we came this way we were able 
to tell where the sunken ship was by seeing her foremast 
then sticking out of the water. The vessel was in ballast ; 
and the crew probably put out to sea in their boats, without 
being discovered. It was the first ship my masters had ever 
heard of without a cargo ; and they would not believe but 
what the stones were such, and must be worth something — 


ANOTHER WHITE SLAVE. 


247 


else why should they be carried about the world in a ship, 
I told them it was a kind of stone from which gold was ob- 
tained ; but that it must be taken to some place where there 
was plenty of coal or wood, before the gold could be melted 
out of it, and then intrusted to white men who understood 
the art of extracting the precious metal from the rocks. 

“ They believe all this ; for they can see shining particles 
in the sandstone which they think is really gold, or some- 
thing that can be converted into it. For four days they 
forced me to toil, at diving and assisting them ; but that 
did n’t suit my purpose ; and I ’ve at length succeeded in 
making them believe that I am not able to work any 
longer.” 

“ But do you really think,” asked Harry Blount, " that 
they will carry the ballast any distance without learning its 
real value?” 

“ Yes ; I did think that they might take it to Mogador, 
and that they would let me go along with them.” 

“ But some one will meet them, and tell them that their 
lading is worthless ? ” suggested Colin. 

“No, I think that fear of losing their ’valuable freight will 
keep them from letting any one know what they ’ve got. 
They are hiding it in the sand now, as fast as they get it 
ashore, for fear some party stronger than themselves should 
come along and take it away from them. I intend to tell 
them after they have started on their journe} , not to let any 
one see or know what they have, until they are safe within 
the walls of Mogador, where they will be under the protec- 
tion of the governor. They have promised to take me along 
with them, and if I once get within sight of a seaport, not 
all the Arabs in Africa will hinder me from recovering my 
liberty.” 

While the pretended invalid was talking to them. Sailor 
Bill had been watching him, apparently with eager interest. 

“Beg pardon for aving a small taste o’ difference wid 


248 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


you in the mather ov your age,” said the sailor, as soon as 
tlie man had ceased speaking ; “ but I ’ll never belave you 
’ve been about ’ere for forty years. It can’t be so long as 
that.” 

The two men, after staring at each other for a moment, 
uttered the words “ Jim ! ” “ Bill ! ” and then, springing for- 
ward, each grasped the hand of the other. Two brothers 
had met ! 

The three mids remembered that Bill had told them of a 
brother, who, when last heard from, was a slave somewhere 
in the Saara, and they needed no explanation of the scene 
now presented to them. 

The two brothers were left alone ; and after the others 
had gone out of the tent they returned to the Krooman — 
who had just succeeded in convincing the sheik, that the 
stones being fished out of the sunken ship were, at that 
time and place, of no value whatever. 

All attempts on the part of the old sheik to convince 
the wreckers, as he had been convinced himself, proved 
fruitless. 

The arguments he used to them were repeated to the sail- 
or, Bill’s brother ; and by him were easily upset with a few 
words. 

“ Of course they will try to make you believe the cargo is 
no good,” retorted Jim. “ They wish you to leave it, so that 
they can have it all to themselves. Does not common sense 
tell you that they are liars ? ” 

This was conclusive ; and the wreckers continued their 
toil, extracting stone after stone out of the hold of the sub- 
merged ship. 

Sailor Bill, at his brother’s request, then summoned his 
companions to the tent. 

“ Which of you have been trying to do me an injury ? ” 
inquired Jim. “ I told you not to say that the stones wera 
worthless.” 


ANOTHER WHITE SLAVE. 


249 


It was explained to him how the Krooman had been en- 
lightening his master. 

‘‘ Call the Krooman,” said Jim, ‘‘ and I ’ll enlighten him. 
If these Arabs find out that they have been deceived, I shall 
be killed, and your master — the old sheik — will certainly 
lose all his property. Tell him to come here also. I must 
talk to him. Something must be done immediately, or I 
shall be killed.” 

The Krooman and the old sheik were conducted in- 
to the tent; and Jim talked to them in the Arabic lan- 
guage. 

“ Leave my masters alone to their folly,” said he to the 
sheik ; “ and they will be so busy that you can depart in 
peace. If not, and you convince them that they have been 
deceived, they will rob you of all you have got. You have 
already said enough to excite their suspicions, and they will 
in time learn that I have been humbugging them. My life 
is no longer safe in their company. You buy me, then ; and 
let us all take our departure immediately.” 

‘‘Are the stones in the wreck really worth nothing?” 
asked the sheik. 

“ No more than the sand on the shore ; and when they 
find out that such is the case, some one will be robbed. 
They have come to the sea-coast to seek wealth, and they 
will have it one way or the other. They are a tribe of bad 
men. Buy me, and leave them to continue the task they 
have so ignorantly undertaken.” 

“ You are not well,” replied the sheik ; “ and if I buy you, 
you cannot walk.” 

“ Let me ride on a camel until I get out of sight of these 
my masters,” answered Jim ; “ you will then see whether I 
can walk or not. They will sell me cheap ; for they think 
I am done up. But I am not ; I was only weary of diving 
after worthless stones.” 

The old sheik promised to follow Jim’s advice ; and or- 
11 # 


250 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


dered his companions to prepare immediately for the contin* 
uance of their journey. 

Sidi Hamet was called, and asked by Rias Abdallah if 
he would sell some of the stones they had saved from the in- 
fidel ship. 

“ Bismillah ! No ! ” exclaimed the wrecker. ‘‘ You say 
they are of no value, and I do not wish to cheat any true 
believer of the prophet.” 

“ Will you give me some of them, then ? ” 

“ No ! Allah forbid that Sidi Hamet should ever make a 
worthless present to a friend ! ” 

“ I am a merchant,” rejoined the old sheik ; “ and wish to 
do business. Have you any slaves, or other property you 
can sell me ? ” 

‘‘ Yes ! You see that Christian dog,” replied the wreck- 
er, pointing to Sailor Bill’s brother ; “ I will sell him.” 

“ You have promised to take me to Swearah,” interrupted 
Jim. “ Do not sell me, master ; I think I shall get well 
some time, and will then work for you as hard as I can.” 

Sidi Hamet cast upon his infidel slave a look of contempt 
at this allusion to his illness ; but Jim’s remark, and the 
angry glance, were both unheeded by the Arab sheik. 

The slave’s pretended wishes not to be sold were disre- 
garded ; and for the consideration of an old shirt and a small 
camel-hair tent, he became the property of Rias Abdallah 
Yezzed. 

The old sheik and his followers then betook themselves to 
their camels ; and the kafila was hurried up the dry bed of 
the river, — leaving the wreckers to continue their toilsome 
and unprofitable task. 


SAILOR BILL’S BROTHER. 


251 


CHAPTER LXVI 


SAILOR bill’s brother. 



FTER leaving the coast, the travellers kept at a quick 


2A pace, and Sailor Bill and his brother had but little op- 
portunity of holding converse together. When the douar 
had been pitched for the night, the old salt and the “ young 
gentlemen,” his companions, gathered around the man whose 
experience in the miseries of Saaran slavery so far exceeded 
their own. 

“ Now, Jim,” began the old man-o’-war’s-man, ‘‘ you must 
spin us the yarn of all your cruising since you Ve been here. 
We Ve seen somethin’ o’ the elephant since we ’ve been cast 
ashore, and that ’s not long. I don’t wonder at you sayin’ 
you ’ave been aboard this craft forty-three years.” 

Yes, that is the correct time according to my reckoning,” 
interrupted Jim ; “ but, Bill, you don’t look much older than 
when I saw you last. How long ago was it ? ” 

‘‘ About eleven years.” 


“ Eleven years ! I tell you that I ’ve been here over 
forty.” 


“ ’Ow can that be ? ” asked Bill. “ Daze it, man, you ’ll 
not be forty years old till the fourteenth o’ the next month. 
You ’ave lost yer senses, an’ in troth, it an’t no wonder ! ” 

“ That is true, for there is nothing in the Saara to help a 
man keep his reckoning. There are no seasons ; and every 
day is as like another as two seconds in the same minute. 
But surely I must have been here for more than eleven 
years.” 

“ No,” answered Bill, “ ye ’ave no been here only a wee 
bit langer than tin ; but afther all ye must ’ave suffered 
in that time, it is quare that ye should a know’d me at all, 


at all.” 


252 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


I did not know you until you spoke,” rejoined Jim, 
“ Then I could n"t doubt that it was you who stood before 
me, when I heard our father’s broad Scotch, our mother’s 
Irish brogue, and the talk of the cockneys amongst whom 
your earliest days were passed, all mingled together.” 

“ You see. Master Colly,” said Bill, turning to the young 
Scotchman. “ My brother Jim has had the advantage of 
being twelve years younger than I ; and when he was old 
enough to go to school, I was doing something to help 
kape ’im there, and for all that I believe he is plased to see 
me.” . 

“ Pleased to see you ! ” exclaimed Jim. “ Of course I 
am.” 

“ I ’m sure av it,” said Bill. 

“ Well, then, brother, go ahead, an’ spin us your yarn.” 

“ I have no one yarn to spin,” replied Jim, “ for a narra- 
tive of my adventures in the desert would consist of a thou- 
sand yarns, each giving a description of some severe suffer- 
ing or disappointment. I can only tell you that it seems to 
me that I have passed many years in travelling through tho 
sands of the Saara, years in cultivating barley on its borders, 
years in digging wells, and years in attending flocks of goats, 
sheep, and other animals. I have had many masters, — all 
bad, and some worse, — and I have had many cruel disap- 
pointments about regaining my liberty. I was once within 
a single day’s journey of Mogador, and was then sold again 
and carried back into the very heart of the desert. I have 
attempted two or three times to escape ; but was recaptured 
each time, and nearly killed for the unpardonable dishon- 
esty of trying to rob my master of my own person. I have 
often been tempted to commit suicide ; but a sort of womanly 
curiosity and stubbornness has prevented me. I wished to 
see how long Fortune would persecute me, and I was deter- 
mined not to thwart her plans by putting myself beyond their 
reach. I did not like to give in, for any one who tries to 


SAILOR BILL’S BROTHER. 


253 


escape from trouble by killing himself, shows that he has 
come off sadly worsted in the war of life.” 

“ You are quite right,” said Harry Blount ; but I hope 
that your hardest bat/.les in that war are now over. Our 
masters have promised to carry us to some place where we 
may be ransomed by our countrymen, and you of course will 
be taken along with us.” 

“ Do not flatter yourselves with that hope,” said Jim. “ 1 
was amused with it for several years. Every master I have 
had gave me the same promise, and here I am yet. I did 
think when my late owners were saving the stones from the 
wreck, that I could get them to enter the walls of some seaport 
town, and that possibly they might take me along with them. 
But that hope has proved as delusive as all others I have 
entertained since shipwrecked on the shore of this accursed 
country. I believe there are a few who are fortunate enough 
to regain their liberty ; but the majority of sailors cast away 
on the Saaran coast never have the good fortune to get 
away from it. They die under the hardships and ill-treat- 
ment to which they are exposed upon the desert — without 
leaving a trace of their existence any more than the dogs or 
camels belonging to their common masters. 

“ You have asked me to give an account of my life since 1 
have been shipwrecked. I cannot do that ; but I shall give 
you an easy rule by which you may know all about it. We 
will suppose you have all been three months in the Saara, 
and Bill here says that I have been here ten years ; there- 
fore I have experienced about forty times as long a period of 
slavery as one of yourselves. Now, multiply the sum total 
of your sufferings by forty, and you will have some idea of 
what I have undergone. 

‘‘ You have probably witnessed some scenes of heartless 
cruelty — scenes that shocked and wounded the most sensi- 
tive feelings of your nature. I hav^ witnessed forty times 
as many. While suffering the agonies of thirst and hunger, 


254 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


you may have prayed for death as a relief to your anguish* 
Where such have been your circumstances once, they have 
been mine for forty times. 

“ You may have had some bright hopes of escaping, and 
once more revisiting your native land ; and then have expe- 
rienced the bitterness of disappointment. In this way I 
have suffered forty times as much as any one of you.” 

Sailor Bill and the young gentlemen, — who had Ikkmi for 
several days under the pleasant hallucination that they were 
on the high road to freedom, — were again awakened to a 
true sense of their situation by the words of a man far more 
experienced than they in the deceitful ways of the desert. 

Before separating for the night, the three mids learnt from 
Bill and his brother that the latter had been first officer of 
the ship that had brought him to the coast. They could 
perceive by his conversation that he was an intelligent man, 
— one whose natural abilities and artificial acquirements 
were far superior to those of their shipmate, — the old man- 
of-war’s-man. 

“ If such an accomplished individual,” reasoned they, “ has 
been for ten years a slave in the Saara, unable to escape or 
reach any place where his liberty might be restored, what 
hope is there for us?” 


CHAPTER LXVII. 

A LIVING STREAM. 

E very hour of the journey presented some additional 
evidence that the kafila was leaving the great desert 
behind, and drawing near a land that might be considered 
fertile. 


A LIVING STREAM. 


255 


On the day after parting from the wreckers a walled town 
was reached, and near it, on the sides of some of the hills, 
were seen growing a few patches of barley. 

At this place the caravan rested for the remainder of the 
day. The camels and horses were furnished with a good 
supply of food, and water drawn from deep wells. It was 
the best our adventurers had drunk since being cast away on 
the African coast. 

Next morning the journey w’as continued. 

After they had been on the road about two hours, the old 
sheik and a companion, riding in advance of the others, 
stopped before what seemed, in the distance, a broad stream 
of water. 

All hastened forward, and the Boy Slaves beheld a sight 
that filled them with much surprise and considerable alarm. 
It was a stream, — a stream of living creatures moving over 
the plain. 

It was a migration of insects, — the famed locusts of 
Africa. 

They were young ones, — not yet able to fly; and for 
some reason, unknown perhaps even to themselves, they 
were taking this grand journey. 

Their march seemed conducted in regular order, and un- 
der strict discipline. 

They formed a living moving belt of considerable breadth, 
the sides of which appeared as straight as any line mathe- 
matical science could have drawn. 

Not one could be seen straggling from the main body, 
which was moving along a track too narrow for their num- 
l,ers, — scarce half of them having room on the sand, while 
the other half were crawling along on the backs of their 
eompagnons du voyage. 

Even the Arabs appeared interested in this African mys- 
tery, and paused for a few minutes to watch the progress 
of the glittering stream presented by these singular insects. 


256 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


The old sheik dismounted from his camel ; and with his 
scimitar broke the straight line formed by the border of the 
moving mass — sweeping them off to one side. 

The space was instantly filled up again by those advancing 
from behind, and the straight edge restored, the insects 
crawling onward without the slightest deviation. 

The sight was not new to Sailor Bill’s brother. He in- 
formed his companions that should a fire be kindled on their 
line of march, the insects, instead of attempting to pass 
around it, would move right into its midst until it should be- 
come extinguished with their dead bodies. 

After amusing himself for a few moments in observing 
these insects, the sheik mounted his camel, and, followed by 
the kafila, commenced moving through the living stream. 

A hoof could not be put down without crushing a score 
of the creatures ; but immediately on the hoof being lifted, 
the space was filled with as many as had been destroyed ! 

Some of the slaves, with their naked feet, did not like 
wading through this living crawling stream. It was neces- 
sary to use force to compel them to pass over it. 

After looking right and left, and seeing no end to the 
column of insects, our adventurers made a rush, and ran 
clear across it. 

At every step their feet fell with a crunching sound, and 
were raised again, streaming with the blood of the mangled 
locusts. 

The belt of the migratory insects was about sixty yards 
in breadth ; yet, short as was the distance, the Boy Slaves 
declared that it was more disagreeable to pass over than any 
ten miles of the desert they had previously traversed. 

One of the blacks, determined to make the crossing as 
brief as possible, started in a rapid run. When about half 
way through, his foot slipped, and he fell full length amidst 
the crowd of creepers. 

Before he could regain his feet, hundreds of the disgust- 


A LIVING STREAM. 


257 


ing insects had mounted upon him, clinging to his clothes, 
and almost smothering him by their numbers. . 

Overcome by disgust, horror, and fear, he was unable to 
rise ; and two of his black companions were ordered to drag 
him out of the disagreeable company into which he had 
stumbled. 

After being rescued and delivered from the clutch of the 
locusts, it was many minutes before he recovered his com- 
posure of mind, along with sufficient nerve to resume his 
journey. 

Sailor Bill had not made the crossing along with the 
others ; and for some time resisted all the attempts of the 
Arabs to force him over the insect stream. 

Two of them at length laid hold of him ; and, after drag- 
ging him some paces into the crawling crowd, left him to 
himself. 

Being thus brought in actual contact with the insects, the 
old sailor saw that the quickest way of getting out of the 
scrape was to cross over to the other side. 

This he proceeded to do in the least time, and with the 
greatest possible noise. His paces were long, and made 
with wonderful rapidity; and each time his foot came to 
the ground, he uttered a horrible yell, as though it had been 
planted upon a sheet of red-hot iron. 

B ill’s brother had now so far recovered from his feigned 
illness, that he was able to walk along with the Boy Slaves. 

Naturally conversing about the locusts, he informed his 
companions, that the year before he had been upon a part 
of the Saaran coast where a cloud of these insects had been 
driven out to sea by a storm, and drowned. They were 
afterwards washed ashore in heaps ; the effluvia from which 
became so offensive that the fields of barley near the shore 
coul(f not be harvested, and many hundred acres of the crop 
v^ere wholly lost to the owners 


Q 


258 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER LXVIII. 

THE ARABS AT HOME. 

^OON after encountering the locusts, the kafila came 
Jo upon a well-beaten road, running through a fertile 
country, where hundreds of acres of barley could be seen 
growing on both sides. 

That evening, for some reason unknown to the slaves, 
their masters did not halt at the usual hour. They saw 
many walled villages, where dwelt the proprietors of the 
barley fields ; but hurried past them without stopping either 
for water or food — although their slaves were sadly in need 
of both. 

In vain the latter complained of thirst, and begged for 
water. The only reply to their entreaties was a harsh com- 
mand to move on faster, frequently followed by a blow. 

Towards midnight, when the hopes and strength of all 
were nearly exhausted, the kafila arrived at a walled village, 
where a gate was opened to admit his slaves. The old sheik 
then informed them that they should have plenty of food 
and drink, and would be allowed to rest for two or three 
days in the village. 

A quantity of water was then thickened with barley meal ; 
and of this diet they were permitted to have as much as 
they could consume. 

It was after night when they entered the gate of the vil- 
lage, and nothing could be seen. Next morning they found 
themselves in the centre of a square enclosure surrounded 
by about twenty houses, standing within a high wall. Flocks 
of sheep and goats, with a number of horses, camels, and 
donkeys, were also within the inclosure. 

Jim informed his companions that most of the Sadran 
Arabs have fixed habitations, where they dwell the greater 


THE ARABS AT HOME. 


259 


part of the year, — generally walled towns, such as the one 
they had now entered. 

The wall is intended for a protection against robbers, at 
the same time that it serves as a pen to keep their flocks 
from straying or trespassing on the cultivated fields during 
the night time. 

It was soon discovered that the Arabs .had arrived at 
their home ; for as soon as day broke, they were seen in 
company with their wives and families. This accounted for 
their not making halt at any of the other villages. Being 
fjo near their own, they had made an effort to reach it with- 
out extending their journey into another day. 

“I fear we are in the hands of the wrong masters for 
obtaining our freedom,” said Jim to his companions. “ If 
they were traders, they might take us farther north and sell 
us ; but it ’s clear they are not ! They are graziers, farm- 
ers, and robbers, when the chance arises, — that *s what they 
he ! While waiting for their barley to ripen, they have 
been on a raiding expedition to the desert, in the hope of cap- 
turing a few slaves, to assist them in reaping their harvest.” 

Jim’s conjecture wgs soon after found to be correct. On 
the old sheik being asked when he intended taking his 
slaves on to Swearah, he answered: — 

“ Our barley is now ripe, and we must not leave it to spoil. 
You must help us in the harvest, and that will enable us to 
go to Swearah all the sooner.” 

‘‘ Do you really intend to take your slaves to Swearah ? ” 
asked the Krooman. 

‘‘ Certainly ! ” replied the sheik. Have we not promised ? 
But we cannot leave our fields now. Bismillah ! our grain 
must be gathered.” 

“ It is just as I supposed,” said Jim. “ They will promise 
anything. They do not intend taking us to Mogador at all. 
The same promise has been made to me by the same sort 
of people a score of times.” 


260 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


“ What shall we do ? ” asked Terence. 

“We must do nothing,” answered Jim. “We must not 
assist them in any way, for the more useful we are to them, 
the more reluctant they will be to part with us. I should 
have obtained my liberty years ago, had I not tried to gain 
the good-will of my Arab masters, by trying to make myself 
useful to them. That was a mistake, and I can see it now. 
We must not give them the slightest assistance in their bar- 
ley-cutting.” 

“But they will compel us to help them?” suggested 
Colin. 

“ They cannot do that if we remain resolute ; and I tell 
you all that you had better be killed at once than submit. 
If we assist in their harvest, they will find something else 
for us to do, and your best days, as mine have been, will be 
passed in slavery ! Each of you must make himself a burden 
and expense to whoever owns him, and then we may be 
passed over to some trader who has been to Mogador, and 
knows that he can make money by taking us there to be re- 
deemed. That is our only chance. These Arabs don’t know 
that we are sure to be purchased for a good price in any 
large seaport town, and they will not run any risk in taking 
us there. Furthermore, these men are outlaws, desert rob- 
bers, and I don’t believe that they dare enter the Moorish 
dominions. We must get transferred to other hands, and the 
only way to do that is to refuse work.” 

Our adventurers agreed to be guided by Jim’s counsels, 
although confident that they would experience much diffi- 
culty in following them. 

Early on the morning of the second day after the Arabs 
reached their home, all the slaves, both white and black, 
were roused from their slumbers ; and after a spare break- 
fast of barley-gruel, were commanded to follow their mas- 
ters to the grain fields, outside the walls of the town. 

“ Do you want us to work ? ” asked Jim, addi*essing him« 
self directly to the old sheik. 


THE ARABS AT HOME. 


261 


** Bismillah ! Yes ! ” exclaimed the Arab. We have 
kept you too long in idleness. What have you done, or 
who are you, that we should maintain you ? You must 
work for your living, as we do ourselves ! ” 

“We cannot do anything on land,” said Jim. “We are 
sailors, and have only learnt to work on board a ship.” 

“ By Allah, you will soon learn ! Come, follow us to tho 
barley fields ! ” 

“ No ; we have all agreed to die ratlier than work for you ! 
You promised to take us to Swearah ; and we will go there 
or die. We will not be slaves any longer ! ” 

Most of the Arabs, with their wives and children, had 
now assembled around the white men, who were ordered in- 
stantly to move on. 

“ It will not do for us to say we will not or can’t move 
on,” said Jim, speaking to his companions in English. “We 
must go to the field. They can make us do that ; but they 
can’t make us work. Go quietly to the field ; but don’t 
make yourselves useful when you get there.” 

This advice was followed ; and the Boy Slaves soon found 
themselves by the side of a large patch of barley, ready for 
the reaping-hook. A sickle of French manufacture was 
then placed in the hands of each, and they were instructed 
how to use them. 

“ Never mind,” said Jim. “ Go to work with a will, 
mates ! We ’ll show them a specimen of how reaping is 
done aboard ship ! ” 

Jim proceeded to set an example by cutting the grain in 
a careless manner — letting the heads fall in every direction, 
and then trampling them under foot as he moved on. 

The same plan was pursued by his brother Bill, the Kroo- 
man, and Harry Blount. 

In the first attempt to use the sickle, Terence was so 
awkward as to fall forward and break the implement into 
two pieces. 


262 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Colin behaved no better : since he managed to cut one of 
his fingers, and then apparently fainted away at the sight of 
the blood. 

The forenoon was passed by the Arabs in trying to train 
their slaves to the work, but in this they were sadly unsuc- 
cessful. 

Curses, threats, and blows were expended upon them to 
no purpose, for the Christian dogs seemed only capable of 
doing much harm and no good. During the afternoon they 
were allowed to lie idle upon the ground, and watch their 
masters cutting the barley; although this indulgence was 
purchased at the expense of lacerated skins and aching 
bones. Nor was this triumph without the cost of further 
suffering : for they were not allowed a mouthful of food or 
a drop of water, although an abundance of both had been 
distributed to the other laborers in the field. 

All five, however, remained obstinate ; withstanding hun- 
ger and thirst, threats, cursings, and stripes, — each one 
disdaining to be the first to yield to the wishes of their Arab 
masters. 


CHAPTER LXIX. 

WORK OR DIE. 

rilHAT night, after being driven within the walls of thp 
_L town, the white slaves, along with their guard and the 
Krooman, were fastened in a large stone building partly in 
ruins, that had been recently used as a goat-pen. 

They were not allowed a mouthful of food nor a drop of 
w’ater, and sentinels walked around all night to prevent them 
from breaking out of their prison. 

No longer targets for the beams of a blazing sun, they 


WORK OR DIE. 


26 ,^ 


were partly relieved from their sufferings ; but a few hand- 
fuls of barley they had managed to secrete and bring in from 
the field, proved only sufficient to sharpen an appetite which 
they could devise no means of appeasing. 

A raging thirst prevented them from having much sleep ; 
and, on being turned out next morning, and ordered back to 
the barley fields, weak with hunger and want of sleep, they 
were strongly tempted to yield obedience to their masters. 

, The black slaves had worked well the day before ; and, 
having satisfied their masters, had received plenty of food 
and drink. 

Their white companions in misery saw them eating their 
breakfast before being ordered to the field. 

“ Jim,” said Sailor Bill, “ I Ve ’alf a mind to give in. I 
must ’ave somethin* to heat an* drink. I*m starvin* all 
over.** 

Don*t think of it, William,** said his brother. “ Unless 
you wish to remain for years in slavery, as I have done, you 
must not yield. Our only hope of obtaining liberty is to 
give the Arabs but one chance of making anything by us, — 
the chance of selling us to our countrymen. They won’t let 
us die, — don’t think it ! We are worth too much for that. 
They will try to make us work if they can ; but we are fools 
if we let them succeed.” 

Again being driven to the field, another attempt was made 
by the Arabs to get some service out of them. 

“We can do nothing now,” said Jim to the old sheik ; 
we are dying with hunger and thirst. Our life has always 
been on the sea, and we can do nothing on land.” 

“ There is plenty of food for those who earn it,” rejoined 
the sheik ; “ and we cannot give those food who do not de- 
serve it.” 

“ Then give us some water.” 

“ Allah forbid I We are not your servants to carry water 
for you.” 


264 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


All attempts to make the white slaves perform task 
having failed, they were ordered to sit down in the hot sun, 
where they were tantalized with the sight of the food and 
water of which they were not permitted to taste. 

During the forenoon of the day, all the eloquence Jim 
could command was required to prevent his brother from 
yielding. The old man-o’-war’s-man was tortured by ex- 
treme thirst, and was once or twice on the eve of selling 
himself in exchange for a cooling draught. 

Long years of suffering on the desert had inured Jim to 
its hardships ; and not so strongly tempted as the others, it 
was easier for him to remain firm. 

Since falling into the company of his countrymen, his 
hope of freedom had revived, and he was determined to 
make a grand effort to regain it. 

He knew that five white captives were worth the trouble 
of taking to some seaport frequented by English ships ; and 
he believed, if they refrained from making themselves use- 
ful, there was a prospect of their being thus disposed of. 

Through his influence, therefore, the refractory slaves 
remained stanch in their resolution to abstain from 
work. 

Their masters now saw that they were better off in the 
field than in the prison. They could not be prevented from 
obtaining a few heads of the barley, which they greedily ate, 
nor from obtaining a little moisture by chewing the roots of 
the weeds growing around them. 

As soon as this was noticed, two of the Arabs were sent 
to conduct them back to the place where they had been con- 
fined on the night before. 

It was with the utmost exertion that Sailor Bill and Colin 
were able to reach the town ; while the others, with the ex- 
ception of Jim, were in a very weak and exhausted state. 
Hunger and thirst were fast subduing them — in body, if 
not in spirit. 


WORK OR DIE. 


265 


On reaching the door of the goat-pen, they refused to go 
in, all clamoring loudly for food and water. 

Their entreaties were met with the declaration : that it 
was the will of God that those who would not work should 
suffer starvation. 

“ Idleness,” argued their masters, “ is always punished by 
ill-health ” ; and they wound up by expressing their thanks 
that such was the case. 

It was not until the two Arabs had obtained the assist- 
ance of several of the women and boys of the village that 
they succeeded in getting the white slaves within the goat- 
pen. 

“ Jim, I tell you I can’t stand this any longer,” said Sailor 
Bill. “ Call an’ say to ’em as I gives in, and will work to- 
morrow, if they will let me have water.” 

And so will I,” said Terence. “ There is nothing in the 
future to compensate for this suffering, and I can endui’e it 
no longer.” 

“Nor will I,” excl&imed Harry; “I must have something 
to eat and drink immediately. We shall all be punished in 
the next world for self-murder in this unless we yield. 

“ Courage ! patience ! ” exclaimed Jim. “ It is better to 
suffer for a few hours more than to remain all our lives in 
slavery.” 

“ What do I care for the future ? ” muttered Terence . 
“ the present is everything. He is a fool who kills himself 
to-day to keep from being hungry ten years after. I will 
try to work to-morrow, if I live so long.” 

“ Yes, call an’ tell ’em, Jem, as ’ow we gives in, an’ they 
’ll send us some refreshment,” entreated the old sailor. “ It 
ain’t in human natur to die of starvation if one can ’elp it.” 

But neither Jim nor the Krooman would communicate to 
the Arabs the wishes of their companions ; and the words 
and signals the old sailor made to attract the attention of 
those outside were unheeded. 

12f 


266 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Early in the evening, both Colin and the Krooman also 
expressed themselves willing to sacrifice the future for the 
present. 

“We have nothing to do with the future, said Colin ; in 
answer to Jim’s entreaties that they should remain firm. 
“ The future is the care of God, and we are only concerned 
with the present. We ought to promise anything if we can 
obtain food by it.” 

“ I tink so too now,” said the Krooman ; “ for it am worse 
than sure dat if we starve now we no be slaves bom by.” 

“ They will not quite starve us to death,” said Jim. “ I 
have told you before that we are worth too much for that. 
If we wiU not work they will sell us, and we may reach 
Mogador. If we do work, we may stay here for years. I 
entreat you to hold out one day longer.” 

“ I cannot,” answered one. 

“ Nor I,” exclaimed another. 

“ Let us first get something to eat, and then take our lib- 
erty by force,” said Terence, “ I fancy £hat if I had a drink 
of water, I could whip all the Arabs on earth.” 

“ And so could I,” said Colin. 

“ And I, too,” added Harry Blount. 

Sailor Bill had sunk upon the fioor, hardly conscious of 
what the others were saying; but, partly aroused by the 
word watef, repeated it, muttering, in a hoarse whisper, 
“Water! Water!” 

The Krooman and the three youths joined in the cry ; 
and then all, as loudly as their parched throats would per- 
mit, shouted the word, “ Water ! Water ! ” 

The call for water was apparently unheeded by the Arab 
men, but it was evidently music to many of the children of 
the village, for it attracted them to the door of the goat- 
pen, around which they clustered, listening with strong ex- 
pressions of delight. 

Through a long night of indescribable agony, the cry of 


VICTORY ! 


267 


“ Water ! Water ! ” was often repeated in the pen, and at 
each time in tones fainter and more supplicating than be- 
fore. 

The cry at length became changed from a demand to a 
piteous prayer. 


CHAPTER LXX. 

VICTOKT I 

N ext moming, when the Arabs opened the door of 
the prison^ Sailor Bill and Colin were found unable 
to rise ; and the old salt seemed quite unconscious of all 
eidbrts made to awaken his attention. 

Not till then did Jim’s resolution begin to give way. He 
would now submit to save them from further suffering ; but 
although knowing it was the wish of all that he should ten- 
der their submission on the terms the Arabs required, for a 
while he delayed doing so, in order to discover the course 
their masters designed adopting towards them. 

‘‘Are you Christian dogs willing to earn your food now?” 
inquired the old sheik, as he entered the goat-pen. 

Faint and weak with hunger, nearly mad with thirst, 
alarmed for the condition of his brother, and pitying the ago- 
ny of the others, Jim was about to answer the sheik’s ques- 
tion in the affirmative ; but there was something in the tone 
in which the question had been put, that determined him to 
refrain for a little longer. 

The earthly happiness of six men might depend upon the 
next word he should utter, and that word he should not 
speak without some deliberation. 

With an intellect sharpened by torture, Jim turned his 


268 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


gaze from the old sheik upon several other Arabs that had 
come near. 

He could see that they had arrived at some decision 
amongst themselves, as to what they should do, and that 
they did not seem much interested in the ultimatum de- 
manded by the sheik’s inquiry. 

This lack of excitement or interest did not look like fur- 
ther starvation and death ; and in place of telling the Arabs 
that they were willing to submit, Jim informed the old sheik 
that all were determined to die rather than remain slaves. 

“ There is not one of us that wishes to live,” he added, 
“except for the purpose of seeing our native land again. 
Our bodies are now weak, but our spirits are still strong. 
We will die!” 

On receiving this answer, the Arabs departed, leaving the 
Christians in the pen. 

The Krooman, who had been listening during the inter- 
view, then faintly called after them to return ; but he was 
stopped by Jim, who still entertained the hope that his firm- 
ness would yet be rewarded. 

Half an hour passed, and Jim began to doubt again. He 
might not have correctly interpreted the expressions he had 
noted upon the faces of the Arabs. 

“ What did you tell them ? ” muttered Terence. “ Did 
you tell them that we were willing to work, if they would 
give us water ? ” 

“Yes — certainly ! ” answered Jim, now beginning to 
regret that he had not tendered their submission before it 
might be too late. 

“Then why do they not come and relieve us?” asked 
Terence, in a whisper — hoarse from despair. 

Jim vouchsafed no answer ; and the Krooman seemed in 
too much mental and bodily anguish to heed what had been 
said. 

Shortly after, Jim could hear the flocks being diiven out 


VICTORY I 


2G9 


of the town ; and looking through a small opening in the 
wall of the pen, he could see some of the Arabs going out 
towards the barley fields. 

Could it be that he had been mistaken — that the Arabs 
were going to apply the screw of starvation "“for another 
day ? Alarmed by this conjecture, he strove to hail them, 
and bring them back ; but the effort only resulted in a hoarse 
wliisper. 

“ May God forgive me ! ” thought he. “ My brother, as 
well as all the others, will die before night ! I have mur- 
dered them, and perhaps myself ! ” 

Driven frantic with the thought, frenzy furnished him 
with the will and strength to speak out. 

His voice could now be heard, for the walls of the stone 
building rang with the shouts of a madman ! 

He assailed “the door with such force that the structure 
gave way, and Jim rushed out, prepared to make any pro- 
mises or terms with their masters, to save the lives he had 
endangered by his obstinacy. 

His submission was not required : for on looking out, two 
men and three or four boys were seen coming towards the 
pen, beai’ing bowls of water, and dishes filled with barley- 
gruel. 

Jim had conquered in the strife between master and man. 
The old sheik had given orders for the white slaves to be fed. 

Jim’s frenzy immediately subsided into an excitement of 
a different nature. 

Seizing a calabash of water, he ran to his brother Bill ; 
and raising him into a sitting posture, he applied the vessel 
to the man-o’-war’s-man’s lips. 

Bill had not strength even to drink, and the water had to 
be poured down his throat. 

Not until all of his companions had drunk, and swallowed 
a few mouthfuls of the barley-gruel, did Jim himself partake 
of anything. 


270 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


The effect of food and water in restoring the energies of 
a starving man is almost miraculous ; and he now congratu* 
lated his companions on the success of his scheme. 

“It is all right!” he exclaimed. “We have conquered 
them I We shall not have to reap their harvest I We shall 
be fed, fattened, and sold ; and perhaps be taken to Moga- 
dor. We should thank God for bringing us all safely 
through the trial. Had we yielded, there would have been 
no hope of ever regaining our liberty I ” 


CHAPTER LXXI. 

SOLD AGAIN. 

T WO days elapsed, during which time our adventurers 
were served with barley-gruel twice a day. They 
were allowed a sufficient quantity of water, with only the 
trouble of bringing it from the well, and enduring a good 
deal of insult and abuse from the women and children whom 
they chanced to meet on their way. 

The second Krooman, who, in a moment of weakness 
inspired by the torture of thirst, had assisted the other 
slaves at their task, now tried in vain to get off from work- 
ing. He came each evening to the pen to converse with 
his countryman ; and at these meetings bitterly expressed 
his regret that he had submitted. 

There was no hope for him now, for he had given proof 
that he could be made useful to his owners. 

On the evening of the second day after they had been 
relieved from starvation, the white slaves were visited in 
their place of confinement by three Arabs they had not 
before seen. 


SOLD AGAIN. 


271 


These were well-armed, well-dressed, fine-looldng fellows, 
having altogether a more respectable appearance than any 
inhabitants of the desert they had yet encountered. 

Jim immediately entered into conversation with them ; 
and learned that they were merchants, travelling with a 
caravan ; and that they had claimed the hospitality of the 
town for that night. 

They were willing to purchase slaves; and had visited 
the pen to examine those their hosts were offering for 
sale. 

“ You are just the men we are most anxious to see,” said 
Jim, in the Arabic language, which, during his long resi- 
dence in the country, he had become acquainted with, and 
could speak fluently. “We want some merchant to buy us, 
and take us to Mogador, where we may find friends to ran- 
som us.” 

“ I once bought two slaves,” rejoined one of the merchants, 
“ and at great expense took them to Mogador. They told 
me that their consul would be sure to redeem them ; but I 
found that they had no consul there. They were not re- 
deemed ; and I had to bring them away again, — having all 
the trouble and expense of a long journey.” 

“ Were they Englishmen ? ” asked Jim. 

“No: Spaniards.” 

“ I thought so.* Englishmen would certainly have been 
ransomed.” 

“ That is not so certain,” replied the merchant ; “ the 
English may not always have a consul in Mogador to buy 
up his countrymen.” 

“ We do not care whether there is one or not ! ” answered 
Jim. “ One of the young fellows you see here has an uncle 
— a rich merchant in Mogador, who will ransom not only 
him, but all of his friends. The three young men you see 
are officers of an English ship-of-war. They have rich fa- 
thers in England, — all of them grand sheiks, — and they 


272 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


were learning to be captains of war-ships, when they were 
lost on this coast. The uncle of one of them in Mogador 
will redeem the whole party of us.” 

‘‘ Which is he who has the rich uncle ? ” inquired one of 
the Arabs. 

Jim pointed to Harry Blount, saying, “ That is the young- 
ster. His uncle owns many great vessels, that come every 
year to Swearah, laden with rich cargoes.” 

** What is the name of this uncle ? ” 

To give an appearance of truth to his story, Jim knew 
that it was necessary for some of the others to say some- 
thing that would confirm it ; and turning towards Harry, 
he muttered, “ Master Blount, you are expected to say 
something — only two or three words — any thing you 
like ! ” 

“ For God’s sake, get them to buy us ! ” said Harry, in 
complying with the singular request made to him. 

Believing that the name he must give to the Arabs should 
something resemble in sound the words Harry had spoken, 
Jim told them that the name of the Mogador merchant was 
“ For God’s sake buy us.” 

After repeating these words two or three times, the Arabs 
were able to pronounce them — after a fashion. 

‘‘ Ask the young man,” commanded one of them, if he is 
sure the merchant ‘For God’s sake bias* will ransom you 
aU?” 

“ When I am done speaking to you,” said Jim, whisper- 
ing to Harry, “ say Yes ! nod your head, and then utter 
some words ! ” 

“ Yes ! ” exclaimed Harry, giving his head an abrupt in- 
clination. “ I think I know what you are trying to do, Jim. 
All right!” 

“ Yes ! ” said Jim, turning to the Arab ; “ the young fel- 
low says that he is quite certain his uncle will buy us alL 
Our friends at home will repay him.’* 


SOU) AGAIN. 


273 


‘‘ But how about the black man ? ” asked one of the mer- 
chants. “ He is not an Englishman ? ” 

“ No ; but he speaks English. He has sailed in English 
ships, and will certainly he redeemed with the rest.” 

The Arabs now retired from the pen, after promising to 
call and see our adventurers early in the inorning. 

After their departure, Jim related the whole of the con- 
versation to his companions, which had the effect of inspir- 
ing them with renewed hope. 

“ Tell them anything,” said Harry, “ and promise any- 
thing ; for I think there is no doubt of our being ransomed, 
if taken to Mogador, although I ’m sure I have no uncle 
there, and don’t know whether there ’s any English consul 
at that port.” 

“ To get to Mogador is our only chance,” said Jim ; and 
I wish I were guilty of no worse crime than using deception, 
to induce some one to take us there. I have a hope that 
these men will buy us on speculation ; and if lies will induce 
them to do so, they shall have plenty of them from me. 
And you,” continued he, turning to the Krooman, “ you 
must not let them know that you speak their language, or 
they will not give a dollar for you. When tliey come here 
in the morning, you must converse with the rest of us in 
English, — so that they may have reason to think that you 
will also be redeemed.” 

Next morning, the merchants again came to the pen, and 
the slaves, at their request, arose and walked out to the 
open space in front, where they could be better examined. 

After becoming satisfied that all were capable of travel- 
ling, one of the Arabs, addressing Jim, said : — 

“ We are going to purchase you, if you satisfy us that 
you are not trying to deceive us, and agree to the terms we 
offer. Tell the nephew of the English merchant that wa 
must be paid one hundred and fifty Spanish dollars for each 
of you.” 


12 * 


274 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Jim made the communication to Harry ; who at once con 
sented that this sum should be paid. 

“ What is the name of his uncle ? ” asked one of the 
Arabs. “ Let the young man tell us.” 

“ They wish to know the name of your uncle,” said Jim, 
turning to Harry. “ The name I told you yesterday. You 
must try and remember it ; for I must not be heard repeat- 
ing it to you.” 

“ For God’s sake buy us ! ” exclaimed Harry. 

The Arabs looked at each other with an expression that 
seemed to say, “ It 's all right ! ” 

‘‘ Now,” said one of the party, “ I must tell you what will 
be the penalty, if we be deceived. If we take you to 
Mogador, and find that there is no one there to redeem you, 
if the young man, who says he has an uncle, be not telling 
the truth, then we shall cut his throat, and bring the rest 
of you back to the desert, to be sold into perpetual slavery. 
Tell him that.” 

“ They are going to buy us,” said Jim to Harry Blount ; 
“ but if we are not redeemed in Mogador, you are to have 
your throat cut for deceiving them.” 

“ All right ! ” said Harry, smiling at the threat, “ that will 
be better than living any longer a slave in the Saara.” 

“ Now look at the Krooman”; suggested Sailor Bill, “and 
say something about him.” 

Harry taking the hint, turned towards the African. 

“ I hope,” said he, “ that they will purchase the poor fel- 
low ; and that we may get him redeemed. After the many 
services he has rendered us, I should not like to leave him 
behind.” 

“ He consents that you may kill the Krooman, if we are 
not ransomed ” ; said Jim, speaking to the Arab merchants, 
“ but he does not like to promise more than one hundred 
dollars for a negro. His uncle might refuse to pay more.” 

For some minutes the Arabs conversed with each other 


SOLD AGAIN. 


275 


m a low tone ; and then one of them replied, ‘‘ It is well. 
We will take one hundred dollars for the negro. And now 
get ready for the road. We shall start with you to-morrow 
morning by daybreak.” 

The merchants then went off to complete their bargain 
with the old sheik, and make other arrangements for their 
departure. 

For a few minutes the white slaves kept uttering excla- 
mations of delight at the prospect of being once more re- 
stored to liberty. Jim then gave them a translation of 
what he had said about the Krooman. 

“ I know the Arab character so well,” said he, “ that I 
did not wish to agree to all their terms without a little hag- 
gling, which prevents them from entertaining the suspicion 
that we are trying to deceive them. Besides, as the Kroo- 
man is not an English subject, there may be great difficulty 
in getting him redeemed ; and we should therefore bargain 
for him as cheaply as possible.” 

Not long after the Arab merchants had taken their depar- 
ture from the pen, a supply of food and drink was served 
out to them : which, from its copiousness, proved that it was 
provided at the expense of their new owners. 

This beginning augured well for their future treatment ; 
and that night was spent by the Boy Slaves in a state of 
contentment and repose, greater than they had experienced 
since first setting foot on the inhospitable shores of the 
Saara. 


27G 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER LXXIL 

ONWARD ONCE MORE. 

E arly next morning our adventurers were awakened, 
and ordered to prepare for the road. 

The Arab merchants had purchased from their late hosts 
three donkeys, upon which the white slaves were allowed to 
ride in turns. Harry Blount, however, was distinguished 
from the rest. As the nephew of the rich merchant, “For 
God’s sake buy us ! ” he was deemed worthy of higher fa- 
vor, and was permitted to have a camel. 

In vain he protested against being thus elevated above his 
companions. The Arabs did not heed his remonstrance^ 
and at a few words from Jim he discontinued them. 

“ They think that we are to be released from slavery by 
the money of your relative,” said Jim, “ and you must do 
nothing to undeceive them. Not to humor them might 
awaken their suspicions. Besides, as you are the responsi- 
ble person of the party, — the one whose throat is to be cut 
if the money be not found, — you are entitled to a little dis- 
tinction, as a compensation for extra anxiety. 

The Krooman, who had joined the slaves in cutting the 
grain, was in the field at work when the merchants moved 
off, and was not present to bid farewell to his more fortunate 
countryman. 

After travelling about twelve miles through a fertile coun- 
try, much of which was in cultivation, the Arab merchants 
arrived at a large reservoir of water, where they encamped 
for the night. 

The water was in a stone tank, placed so as to catch all 
the rain that fell in a long narrow valley, gradually descend- 
ing from some hills to the northward. 

Jim had visited the place before, and told his companions 


ONWARD ONCE MORE. 


277 


that the tank had been constructed by a man whose memory 
was much respected, and who had died nearly a hundred 
years ago. 

During the night the Krooman, who had been left behind, 
entered the encampment, confident in the belief that he had 
escaped from his taskmasters. 

At sunset he had contrived to conceal himself among the 
barley sheaves until his masters were out of sight, when he 
had started off on the track taken by the Arab merchants. 

He was not allowed long indulgence in his dream of lib- 
erty. On the following morning, as the kafila was about to 
continue its journey, three men were seen approaching on 
swift camels ; and shortly after Rias Abdallah Yessed, and 
two of his followers rode up. 

They were in pursuit of the runaway Krooman, and in 
great rage at the trouble which he had caused them. So 
anxious were the Boy Slaves that the poor fellow should 
continue along with them, that, for their sake, the Arab 
merchants made a strenuous effort to purchase him; but 
Rias Abdallah obstinately refused to sell him at anything 
like a reasonable price. The Krooman had given proof that 
he could be very useful in. the harvest-field; and a sum 
much greater than had been paid for any of the others, was 
demanded for him. He was worth more to his present 
owners than what the Arab merchants could afford to give ; 
and was therefore dragged back to the servitude from which 
he had hoped to escape. 

You can see now, that I was right,” said Jim. Had 
we consented to cut their harvest, we should never have had 
an opportunity of regaining our liberty. Our labor for a 
^ single year would have been worth as much to them as the 
price they received for us, and we should have been held in 
perpetual bondage.” 

Jim’s companions could perceive the truth of this obser- 
Tdtion, but not without being conscious that their good 


278 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


fortune was, on their part, wholly undeserved, and that had 
it not been for him, they would have yielded to the wishes 
cf their late masters. 

After another march, the merchants made halt near some 
wells, around which a large Arab encampment was found 
already established, — the flocks and herds wandering over 
the adjacent plain. Here our adventurers had an opportu- 
nity of observing some of the manners and customs of this 
nomadic people. 

Here, for the first time, they witnessed the Arab method 
of making butter. 

A goat’s skin, nearly filled with the milk of camels, asses, 
sheep, and goats, all mixed together, was suspended to the 
ridge pole of a tent, and then swung to and fro by a child, 
until the butter was produced. The milk was then poured 
off, and the butter clawed out of the skin by the black dirty 
fingers of the women. 

The Arabs allege that they were the first people who dis- 
covered the art of making butter, — though the discovery 
does not entitle them to any great credit, since they could 
scarce have avoided making it. The necessity of carrying 
milk in these skin bags, on a journey, must have conducted 
them to the discovery. The agitation of the fluid, while be- 
ing transported on the backs of the camels, producing the 
result, naturally suggested the idea of bringing it about by 
similar means when they were not travelling. 

At this place the slaves were treated to some barley-cakes, 
and were allowed a little of the butter ; and this, notwith- 
standing the filthy mode in which it had been prepared, ap- 
peared to them the most delicious they had ever tasted. 

During the evening, the three merchants, along with sev- 
eral other Arabs, seated themselves in a circle ; when a pipe 
was lit and passed round from one to another. Each would 
take a long draw, and then hand the pipe to his left-hand 
neighbor. 


ANOTHER BARGAIN. 


279 


While thus occupied, they kept up an animated conversa- 
tion, in which the word “ Swearah ” was often pronounced. 
Swearah of course meant “ Mogador.” 

‘‘ They are talking about us,” said Jim, “ and we must 
learn for what purpose. I am afraid there is something 
wrong. Kr<JDman ! ” he continued, addressing himself to the 
black, “ they don’t know that you understand their language. 
Lie down near them, and pretend to be asleep; but take 
note of every word they say. If I go up to them they will 
drive me away.” 

The Krooman did as desired ; and carelessly sauntering 
near the circle, appeared to be searching for a soft place on 
which to lay himself for the night. 

This he discovered some seven or eight paces from thfe 
spot where the Arabs were seated. 

“ I have been disappointed about obtaining my freedom so 
many times,” muttered Jim, “that I can scarce believe I 
shall ever succeed. Those fellows are talking about Moga- 
dor; and I don’t like their . looks. Hark! what is that 
about ‘ more than you can get in Swearah ! ’ I believe these 
new Arabs are making an offer to buy us. If so, may their 
prophets curse them I ” 


CHAPTER LXXIII. 

ANOTHER BARGAIN. 

T he conversation amongst the Arabs was kept up until 
a late hour; and during the time it continued, our 
adventurers were impatiently awaiting the return of the 
Krooman. 

He came at length, after the Arabs had retired to theif 


280 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


tents ; and all gathered around him, eager to learn what he 
had heard. 

“ I find out too much,” said he, in answer to their inqui- 
ries ; “ too much, and no much good.” 

“ What was it ? ” 

“ Two of you he sold to-morrow.” • 

“ What two ? ” 

“ No one know. One man examine us all in the morn- 
ing, but take only two.” 

After suffering a long lesson teaching the virtue of pa- 
tience, they learnt from the Krooman that one of those who 
had been conversing with their masters was a grazier, own- 
ing large droves of cattle ; and that he had lately been to 
Swearah. 

He had told the merchants that they would not he able 
to get a large price for their slaves in that place ; and that 
the chances were much against their making more than the 
actual expenses incurred in so long a journey. He assured 
the Arab merchants that no Christian consul or foreign 
merchant in Mogador would pay a dollar more for redeem- 
ing six slaves than what they could be made to pay for two 
or three ; that they were not always willing or prepared to 
pay anything ; and that whenever they did redeem a slave, 
they did not consider his value, but only the time and ex- 
pense that had been incurred in bringing him to the place. 

Under the influence of these representations, the Arab 
merchants had agreed to sell two of their white slaves to the 
grazier, — thinking they would get as much for the remain- 
ing four as they would by taking all six to the end of the 
journey. 

The owner of the herds was to make his choice in the 
morning. 

“ I thought there was a breaker ahead,” exclaimed Jim, 
after the Krooman had concluded his report. “ We must not 
be separated except by liberty or death. Our masters must 


ANOTHER BARGAIN. 


281 


take us all to Mogador. There is trouble before us yet ; 
but we must be firm, and overcome it. Firmness has saved 
us once, and may do so again.” 

After all had promised to be guided in the coming emer- 
gency by Jim, they laid themselves along the ground, and 
sought rest in sleep. 

Next morning, while they were eating their breakfast, 
they were visited by the grazier who was expected to make 
choice of two of their number. 

“ Which is the one who speaks Arabic ? ” he inquired 
from one of the merchants. 

Jim was pointed out, and was at once selected as one of 
the two to be purchased. 

“ Tell ’im to buy me, too, Jim,” said Bill, “ We ’ll sail in 
<',ompany, you and I, though I don’t much like partin’ with 
the young gentlemen here.” 

“ You shall not part either with them or me, if I can 
help it,” answered Jim ; “ but we must expect some torture. 
Let all bear it like devils ; and don’t give in. That ’s our 
only chance ! ” 

Glancing his eyes over the other slaves, the grazier se- 
lected Terence as the second for whom he was willing to pay 
a price. 

His terms having been accepted by the merchants, they 
were about concluding the bargain, when they were accosted 
6y Jim. 

He assured them that he and his companions were deter- 
mined to die, before they should be separated, — that none 
of them would do any work if retained in slavery, — and 
that all were determined to be taken to Swearah. 

The merchants and the buyer only smiled at this inter- 
ruption ; and went on with the negotiation. 

Li vain did Jim appeal to their cupidity, — reminding 
them that the merchant, “ for God’s sake bias,” would pay a 
far higher price for himself and his companions. 


282 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


His arguments and entreaties failed to change their deter* 
mination, — the bargain was concluded ; and Jim and Ter- 
ence were made over to their new master. 

The merchants then mounted their camels, and ordered 
the other four to follow them. 

Harry Blount, Colin, and Sailor Bill answered this com- 
mand by sulkily sitting down upon the sand. 

Another command from the merchants was given in sharp 
tones that betrayed their rising wrath. 

“ Obey them ! ” exclaimed Jim. “ Go on ; and Master 
Terence and I will follow you. We T1 stand the brunt of 
the battle. They shall not hold me here alive ! ” 

Colin and Bill each mounted a donkey, and Harry his 
camel — the Arab merchants seeming quite satisfied at the 
result of their slight exhibition of anger. 

Jim and Terence attempted to follow them ; but their new 
master was prepared for this ; and, at a word of command, 
several of his followers seized hold of and fast bound both 
of them. 

Jim’s threat that they should not hold him alive, had thus 
proved but an idle boast. 

Harry, Colin, and Bill, now turned back, dismounted, and 
showed their determination to remain with their compan- 
ions, by sitting down alongside of them. 

“ These Christian dogs do not wish for liberty ! ” ex- 
claimed one of the merchants. “Allah forbid that we should 
force them to accbpt it. Who will buy them ? ” 

These words completely upset all Jim’s plans. He saw 
that he was depriving the others of the only opportunity 
they might ever have of obtaining their liberty. 

“ Go on, go on ! ” he exclaimed. “ Make no further re- 
sistance. It is possible they may take you to Mogador. 
Ho not throw away the chance.” 

“We are not goin’ to lave you, Jim,” said Bill, “ not even 
for liberty, — leastways, I ’m not, Hon ’t you be afeerd o* 
that ! ” 


MORE TORTURE. 


283 


“ Of course we will not, unless we are forced to do so,” 
added Harry. ‘‘ Have you not said that we must keep to- 
gether ? ” 

“ Have you not all promised to be guided by me ? ” re- 
plied Jim. “ I tell you now to make no more resistance. 
Go on with them if you wish ever to be free ! ” 

“ Jim knows what he is about,” interposed Colin ; “ let us 
obey him.” 

With some reluctance, Harry and Bill were induced to 
mount again ; but just as they were moving away, they were 
recalled by Jim, who told them not to leave ; and that all 
must persevere in the determination not to be separated. 

“The man has certainly gone mad,” reflected Harry 
Blount, as he turned back once more. “We must no long- 
er be controlled by him ; but Terence must not be left be- 
hind. We cannot forsake himy 

Again the three dismounted, and returning to the spot 
where Jim and Terence lay fast bound along the sand, sat 
determinedly down beside them. 


CHAPTER LXXIV. 

MORE TORTURE. 

T he sudden change of purpose and the cout^ter-ordeTs 
given by Jim were caused by something he had just 
heard while listening to the conversation of the Arabs. 

Seeing that the merchants, rather than have any unneces- 
sary trouble with them, were dh^posed to seU them all, Jim 
had been unwilling to deprive his brother and the others of 
an opportunity of obtaining their freedom. For this reason 


284 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


had he entreated them to leave Terence and himself to their 
fate. 

But just as he had prevailed on Harry and his companion 
to go quietly, he learnt from the Arabs that the man who 
had purchased Terence and himself refused to have any 
more of them ; and also that the other Arabs present were 
either unable or unwilling to buy them. 

The merchants, therefore, would have to take them far- 
ther before they could dispose of them. 

In Jim’s mind then revived the hope that, by opposing 
the wishes of his late masters, he and Terence might be 
bought back again and taken on to Mogador. 

It was this hope that had induced him to recall his compan- 
ions after urging them to depart. 

A few words explained his apparently strange conduct 
to Harry and Colin, and they promised to resist every at- 
tempt made to take them any farther unless all should go in 
company. 

The merchants in vain commanded and entreated that the 
Christian dogs should move on. They used threats, and 
then resorted to blows. 

Harry, to whom they had hitherto shown much respect, 
was beaten until his scanty garments were saturated with 
blood. 

Unwilling to see others suffering so much torture unsup- 
ported by any selfish desire, Jim again counselled Harry * 
and the others to yield obedience to their masters. 

In this counsel he was warmly seconded by Terence. 

But Harry declared his determination not to desert his 
old shipmate Colin, and Bill remained equally firm under the 
torture ; while the Krooman, knowing that his only chance 
of liberty depended on rem'aining true to the white slaves, 
and keeping in their company, could not be made to yield. 

Perceiving that all his entreaties — addressed to his broth- 
er, Harry, and Colin — could not put an end to the painfu^ 


MORE TORTURE. 


285 


scene fie was compelled to witness, Jim strove to effect some 
purpose by making an appeal to his late masters. 

Buy us back, and take us all to Swearah as you prom- 
ised,” said he. “ If you do so, we will go cheerfully as we 
were doing before. I tell you, you will be well paid for your 
trouble.” 

One of the merchants, placing some confidence in the truth 
of this representation, now offered to buy Jim and Terence 
on his own account ; but their new master refused to part 
with his newly-acquired property. 

A crowd of men, women, and children had now gathered 
around the spot ; and from all sides were heard shouts of 
“ Kill the obstinate Christian ‘ dogs.’ How dare they resist 
the will of true believers ! ” 

This advice was given by those who had no pecuniary in- 
terest in the chattels in question ; but the merchants, who 
had invested a large sum in the purchase of the white slaves, 
had no idea of making such a sacrifice for the gratification 
of a mere passion. 

There was but one way for them to overcome the difficul- 
ty that had so unexpectedly presented itself. This was to 
separate the slaves by force, taking the four along with them ; 
and leaving the other two to the purchaser who would not 
revoke his bargaiii. 

To accomplish this, the assistance of the bystanders was 
required and readily obtained. 

Harry was first seized and placed on the back of his cam- 
el, to which he was firmly bound. 

Colin, Bill, and the Krooman were each set astride of a 
donkey, and then made fast by having their feet tied under 
the animal’s belly. 

For a small sum the merchants then engaged two of the 
Arabs to accompany them and guard the white slaves to the 
frontier of the Moorish empire, a distance of two days’ jour- 
ney. 


286 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


While the party was about to move away from the spot, 
one of the merchants, addressing himself to Jim, made the 
following observations. 

“ Tell the young man, the nephew of the merchant, 
‘ For God’s sake bias,’ that since we have started for 
Swearah in the belief that his story is true, we shall now 
take him there whether he is willing or not, and if he has 
in anyway deceived us, he shall surely die.” 

‘‘ He has not deceived you,” said Jim, “ take him and the 
others there, and you will certainly be paid.” 

Then why do they not go willingly ? ” 

“ Because they do not wish to leave their friends.” 

Ungrateful dogs ! cannot they be thankful for their own 
good fortune ? Do they take us for slaves, that we should 
do their will ? ” 

While the conversation was going on, the other two mer- 
chants had headed their animals to the road ; and in a min- 
ute after Harry Blount and Colin had parted with their old 
messmate Terence, without a hope of ever meeting him 
again. 


CHAPTER LXXV. 


EN ROUTE. 


ND now away for the Moorish frontier . 



_jLJL Away, — trusting that the last hasty promise of the 
merchant to test their earnest story, and yield to the impor- 
tunate desires which they had so long cherished, might not 
be unfulfilled. 

Away, — out into the desert again ; into that broad, bar- 
ren wilderness of sand, stretching wearily on as far as eye 


EN ROUTE. 


287 


could reach, and beyond the utmost limit of human steps, 
where the wild beasts almost fear to tread. 

Away, — under the glare of the tropic sun, whose torrid 
beams fall from heavens that glow like hot walls of brass, 
and beat down through an atmosphere whose faint undu- 
lations in the breath of the desert wind ebb and flow over 
the parched travellers, like waves of a fiery sea ; under a 
sun that seems to grow ever larger and brighter as the tired 
eyes, sick with beholding its yellow splendor overflowing all 
the world, yet turn toward it their fascinated gaze, and 
faint into burning dryness at its sight. 

Away, — from the coolness of city walls, and the dark 
shadows of narrow, high-built streets, where the sunlight 
comes only at the height of noon, where men hide within 
doors as the hot hours draw nigh, and rest in silent cham- 
bers, or drowse iaway the time with tchibouque or narghilehj 
whose softened odor of the rich Eastern tobacco floats up 
through perfumed waters and tubes of aromatic woods to 
leisurely lips, and curls in dim wreaths before restful eyelids 
half dropping to repose. 

Away, — from the association of men in street, lane, ba- 
zaar, and market-place. No very profitable or happy asso- 
ciation for the poor captives, one might think ; and yet not 
so. For in every group of bystanders, or bevy of passers, 
they perchance might see him who should prove their angel 
of deliverance, — a kindly merchant, a new speculator, or 
even, by some event of gracious fortune, a countryman or a 
friend. 

Away, — from all that they had borne and hoped, and 
borne and seen and suffered, into the desert whose paths lay 
invisible to them, mapped out in the keen intellects of their 
guides and guards, who read the streaming sand of Saara 
as sailors read the wilds of sweeping seas, but whose dusky 
faces, as inscrutable as the barren wastes, revealed no trace 
of the secret of the path they led, — whether indeed the 


288 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


great Moorish Empire were their destination, or whether 
they turned their steps to some unknown and untried goal. 

Away, — from the hum of business, from the gossip of 
idlers and the staid speech of a city into the silence of the 
vast desolation wherein they moved, the only reasoning, 
thinking beings it contained. Silence all around, unbroken 
save by the smothered tread of the beasts in their little 
train, the shouts of the drivers, the chattering of the attend- 
ants, the rattling of harness and burdens, and the soft sough 
of the sand as it sank back into the hot level from which 
the passing hoofs had disturbed it. 

Away, away, — and who shall attempt to paint the feel- 
ings of the captives as their wanderings began again ? It 
would need a brilliant pen to convey the sensations with 
which the voyageur, eager for scenes of adventure and fresh 
from the hived-up haunts of civilization, would enter upon a 
desert jaunt, to whom all was full of novelty and interest, 
whose companions were subjects for curious study, speaking 
in accents the unfamiliar Oriental cadence of which fell 
pleasantly upon his ear, and who found in every hour some 
fresh cause for wonder or pleasure. But a pen of maiwel- 
lous power and pathos must be invoked to portray the min- 
gled emotions that swayed in swift succession the minds of 
our Boy Slaves ! No charm existed for them in the strange- 
ness of desert scenery, Arab comradeship, and the murmur 
of Eastern tongues ; they had long passed the time for that, 
while their bitter familiarity with all these made even a 
deep revulsion of feeling in their sorely tried souls. Hope, 
fear, doubt, fatigue, anxious yearning, and vague despair, 
— all in turn swept through their thoughts, even as the 
dust of their pitiless pathway swept over their scorched 
faces, and covered with effacing monotony every vestige 
of their passage. Mine is no such potent pen, and so let 
us leave them, bound to their beasts of burden, going down 
from the abodes of men into the depths again ; and so let 
us leave them, journeying ever onward, — away, away ! 


HOPE DEFERRED. 


289 


CHAPTER LXXVI. 

HOPE DEFERRED. 

F or the first hour of their journey, Harry, Colin, and 
Sailor Bill, were borne along fast bound upon the 
backs of their animals. So disagreeable did they find this 
mode of locomotion, that the Krooman was requested to 
inform their masters, that they were willing to accompany 
them without further opposition, if allowed the freedom of 
their limbs, this was the first occasion on which the Kroo- 
man had made known to the Arab merchants that he could 
speak their language. 

After receiving a few curses and blows for having so long 
concealed his knowledge of it, the slaves were unbound, and 
the animals they bestrode were driven along in advance of 
the others, while the two hired guards were ordered to keep 
a short watch over them. 

The journey was continued until a late hour of the night ; 
when they reached the gate of a high wall enclosing a small 
town. 

Here a long parley ensued, and at first the party seemed 
likely to be turned back upon their steps to pass the night 
in the desert, but at last the guardians of the village, being 
satisfied with the representations of the Arabs, unbarred the 
portals and let them enter. 

After the slaves had been conducted inside, and the gate 
fastened behind them, their masters, relieved of all anxiety 
about losing their property, accepted the hospitality of the 
sheik of the village, and took their departure for his house, 
directing only that the white slaves should be fed. 

After the latter had eaten a hearty meal, consisting of 
barley-bread and milk ; they were conducted to a pen, which 
13 8 


290 


THE BOY SLAVES.' 


y 

they were told was to be their sleeping-place, and there they 
passed the greater part of the night in fighting fleas. 

Never before had either of them encountered these in- 
sects, either so large in size or of so keen appetites. 

It was but at the hour at which their journey should have 
been resumed, that they forgot their hopes and cares in the 
repose of sleep. Weary in body and soul, they slept on till 
a late hour ; and when aroused to consciousness by an Arab 
bringing some food, they were surprised to see that the sun 
was high up in the heavens. 

Why had they not been awakened before ? 

Why this delay ? 

In the mind of each was an instinctive fear that there 
must be something wrong, — that some other obstacle had 
arisen, blocking up their road to freedom. Hours passed, 
and their masters came not near them. 

They remained in much anxiety, vainly endeavoring to 
surmise what had caused the interruption to their journey. 

Knowing that the merchants had expressed an intention 
to conduct them to Mogador as soon as possible, they could 
not doubt but what the delay arose from some cause afiect- 
ing their own welfare. 

Late in the afternoon they were visited by their masters ; 
and in that interview their worst fears were more than 
realized. 

By the aid of the Krooman, one of the merchants in- 
formed Harry that they had been deceived, — that the 
sheik, of whose hospitality they had been partaking, had 
often visited Swearah, and was acquainted with all the for- 
eign residents there. He had told them that there was no 
one of the name “ For God sake byas.” 

He had assured them that they were being imposed upon ; 
and that by taking the white slaves to Swearah, they would 
certainly lose them. 

“We shall not kill you,” said one of the masters to Har- 


HOPE DEFERRED. 


291 


ry, “ for we tave not had the trouble of carrying you the 
whole distance ; and besides, we should be injuring our- 
selves. We shall take you all to the borders of the desert, 
and there sell you for what you will fetch.” 

Harry told the Krooman to inform his masters that he 
had freely pledged • his existence on the truth of the story 
he had told them ; that he certainly had an uncle and friend 
in Mogador, who would redeem them all ; but that, should 
his uncle not be in Swearah at the time they should arrive 
there, it would make no difference, as they would certainly 
be ransomed by the English Consul. “ Tell them,” added 
Harry, “ that if they will take us to Swearah, and we are 
not ransomed as I promised, they shall be welcome to take 
my life. I will then willingly die. Tell them not to sell 
us until they have proved my words false ; and not to injure 
themselves and us by trusting too much to the words of 
another. 

To this communication the merchants made reply: — 
That they had been told that slaves brought from the desert 
into the Empire of Morocco could, and sometimes did, claim 
the protection of the government, which set them free with- 
out paying anything; and those who were at the expense 
of bringing them obtained nothing for their trouble. 

One of the merchants, whose name was Bo Musem, 
seemed inclined to listen with some favor to the representa- 
tions of Harry; but he was overruled by the other two, so 
that all his assertions about the wealth of his parents at 
home, and the immense worth he and his comrades were to 
this country, as officers in its navy, failed to convince his 
masters that they would be redeemed. 

The merchants at length went away, leaving Harry and 
Colin in an agony of despair; while Sailor Bill and the 
Krooman seemed wholly indifferent as to their future fate. 
The prospect of being again taken to the desert, seemed to 
have so benumbed the intellect of both, as to leave them 
incapable of emotion. 


292 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Hope, fear, and energy seemed to have forsaken the old 
sailor, who, usually so fond of thinking aloud, had not now 
sufficient spirit left, even for the anathematizing of his ene- 
mies. 


CHAPTER LXXVII 


EL HAJJI. 


ATE in the evening of the second night spent within 



I J the walls of the town, two travellers knocked at the 
gate for admittance. 

One of them gave a name which created quite a commo- 
tion in the village, all seeming eager to receive the owner 
with some show of hospitality. 

The merchants sat up to a late hour in company with 
these strangers and the sheik of the place. Kids were caught 
and killed, and a savory stew was soon served up for their 
guests, while, with coffee, pipes, and many customary civili- 
ties, the time slipped quickly by. 

Notwithstanding this, they were astir upon the following 
morning before daybreak, busied in making preparations for 
their journey. 

The slaves, on being allowed some breakfast, were com- 
manded to eat it in all haste, and then assist in preparing 
the animals for the road. 

They were also informed that they were to be taken south, 
and sold. 

“ Shall we go, or die ? ” asked Colin. “ I, for one, had 
rather die than again pass through the hardships of a jour- 
ney in the desert.” 

Neither of the others made any reply to this. The spirit 
of despair had taken too strong a hold upon them. 


EL HAJJI. 


293 


The merchants themselves were obliged (o caparison their 
animals ; and just as they were about to use some strong 
arguments to induce their refractory slaves to mount, they 
were told that “ El Hajji ” (“ the pilgrim ”) wished to see 
the Christians. 

Soon after, one of the strangers who had entered the toWn 
so late on the night before was seen slowly approaching. 

He was a tall, venerable-looking Arab, with a long white 
beard reaching down to the middle of his breast. His cos- 
tume, by its neatness and the general costliness of the arti- 
cles of which it was composed, bespoke him a man of the 
better class, and his bearing was nowise inferior to his guise. 

Having performed the pilgrimage to the Prophet’s Tomb, 
he commanded the respect and hospitality of all good Mus- 
sulmans whithersoever he wandered. 

With the Krooman as interpreter, he asked many ques- 
tions, and seemed to be much interested in the fate of the 
miserable-looking objects before him. 

After his curiosity had been satisfied as to the name of 
the vessel in which they had reached the country, the time 
they had passed in slavery, and the manner of their treat- 
ment which had produced their emaciated and wretched 
appearance, he made inquiries about their friends and rela- 
tives at home. 

Harry informed him that Colin and himself had parents, 
brothers, and sisters, who were now probably mourning 
them as lost : that they and their two companions were sure 
to be ransomed, could they find some one who would take 
them to Mogador. He also added, that their present mas- 
ters had promised to take them to that place, but were now 
prevented from doing so through the fear that^ they would 
not be rewarded for their trouble. 

“ I will do all I can to assist you,” said El Hajji, after the 
Krooman had given the interpretation of Harry’s speech. 
“ I owe a debt of gratitude to one of your countrymen, and 


294 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


1 shall try to repay it. When in Cairo I was unwell, and 
starving for the want of food. An officer of an English ship 
of war gave me a coin of gold. That piece of money proved 
both life and fortune to me ; for with it I was able to con- 
tinue my journey, and reach my friends. We are all the 
children of the true God ; and it is our duty to assist one 
another. I will have a talk with your masters.” 

The old pilgrim then turning to the three merchants, 
said, — 

“ My friends, you have promised to take these Christian 
slaves to Swearah, where they will be redeemed. Are you 
bad men who fear not God, that your promise should be 
thus broken ? ” 

“ We think they have deceived us,” answered one of the 
merchants, “ and we are afraid to carry them within the 
emperor’s dominions for fear they will be taken from us 
without our receiving anything. We are poor men, and 
nearly all our merchandise we have given for these slaves. 
We cannot afford to lose them. 

“ You will not lose the value of them,” said the old man, 
if you take them to Swearah. They belong to a country 
the government of which will not allow its subjects to re- 
main in bondage ; and there is not an English merchant in 
Swearah that would not redeem them. A merchant who 
should refuse to do so would scarce dare return to his own 
country again. You will make more by taking them to 
Swearah than anywhere else.” 

“ But they can give themselves up to the governor when 
they reach Swearah,” urged one of the merchants, “ and we 
may be ordered out of the country without receiving a sin- 
gle cowrie for all. Such has been done before. The good 
sheik here knows of an Arab merchant who was treated so. 
He lost all, while the governor got the ransom, and put it in 
his own pocket.” 

Tliis was an argument El Hajji was unable to answer ; 


EL HAJJL 


295 


but he was not long in finding a plan for removing the diffi- 
culty thus presented. 

“ Do not take them within the Empire of Morocco,” said 
he, “ until after you have been paid for them. Two of you 
can stay with them here, while the other goes to Swearah 
with a letter from this young man to his friends. You have 
as yet no proof that he is trying to deceive you ; and there- 
fore, as true men, have no excuse for breaking your promise 
to him. Take a letter to Swearah ; and if the money be 
not paid, then do with them as you please, and the wrong 
will not rest upon you.” 

Bo Muzem, one of the merchants, immediately seconded 
the pilgrim’s proposal, and spoke energetically in its favor. 

He said that they were but one day’s journey from Aga- 
deez, a frontier town of Morocco ; and that from there 
Swearah could be reached in three days. 

The merchants for a few minutes held consultation 
apart, and then one of them announced that they had 
resolved upon following El Hajji’s advice. Bo Muzem 
should go to Swearah as the bearer of a letter from Harry 
to his uncle. 

“Tell the young man,” said one of the merchants, ad- 
dressing himself to the interpreter, “ tell him, from me, that 
if the ransom be not paid, he shall surely die on Bo Muzem’s 
return. Tell him that.” 

The Krooman made the communication, and Harry ac- 
cepted the terms. 

A piece of dirty crumpled paper, a reed, and some ink 
was then placed before Harry ; and while the letter was be- 
ing written. Bo Muzem commenced making preparations for 
his journey. 

Elnowing that their only hope of liberty depended on 
their situation being made known to some countrymen resi- 
dent in Mogador, ;3arry took up the pen, and, with much 
difficulty, succeeded in scribbling the following letter ; — 


296 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


‘‘Sir, — Two midshipmen of H. M. S. (lost a few 

weeks ago north of Cape Blanco), and two seamen are now 
held in slavery at a small town one day’s journey from 
Santa Cruz. The bearer of this note is one of our masters. 
His business in Mogador is to learn if we will be ransomed ; 
and if he is unsuccessful in finding any one who will pay the 
money to redeem us, the writer of this note is to be killed. 
If you cannot or will not pay the money they require (one 
hundred and fifty dollars for each slave), direct the bearer 
to some one whom you think will do so. 

“ There is a midshipman from the same vessel, and an- 
other English sailor one day’s journey south of this place. 

“ Perhaps the bearer of this note. Bo Muzem, may be in- 
duced to obtain them, so that they also may be ransomed. 

“Henry Blount.” 

This letter Harry folded, and directed to “ Any English 
merchant in Mogador.” 

By the time it was written. Bo Muzem was mounted, and 
ready for the road. 

After receiving the letter, he wished Harry to be informed 
once more, that, should the journey to Swearah be fruitless, 
nothing but his (Harry’s) life would compensate him for the 
disappointment. 

After promising to be back in eight days, and enjoining 
upon his partners to look well after their property during 
his absence, Bo Muzem took his departure from the town. 


so MUZEM’S JOURNEY. 


297 


CHAPTER LXXVIII. 

BO muzem’s journey. 

A lthough an Arab merchant, Bo Muzem was an 
honest man, — one who in all business transaction? 
told the truth, and expected to hear it from others. 

He pursued his journey towards Mogador with but n faint 
hope that the representations made by Harry Blount would 
prove true, and with the determination of taking the life of 
the latter, should he find himself deceived. He placed 
more faith in the story told him by the sheik, than in the 
mere supposition of the pilgrim, that the white slaves would 
find some one to ransom them. For often, — alas too 
often ! — the hopes which captives have dwelt on for tedious 
months, until they have believed them true, have proved, 
when put to the test, but empty and fallacious dreams. 

His journey was partly undertaken through a sense of 
duty. After the promise made to the slaves, he thought it 
but right to become fully convinced that they would not be 
redeemed before the idea of taking them to Mogador should 
be relinquished. 

He pressed forward on his journey with the perseverance 
and self-denial so peculiar to the race. After crossing the 
spurs of the Atlas Mountain near Santa Cruz, he reached, 
on the evening of the third day, a small walled town, within 
three hours ride of Mogador. 

Here he stopped for the night, intending to proceed to 
the city early on the next morning. Immediately after en- 
tering the town. Bo Muzem met a person whose face wore 
a familiar look. 

It was the man to whom but a few days before, he had 
gold Terence and Jim. 

“Ah! my friend, you have ruined me,” exclaimed the 
13 * 


298 


THE BOY SLAVES 


Arab grazier, after their first salutations had passed. “I 
have lost those two useless Christian dogs you sold me, and 
I am ruined.” 

Bo Muzem asked him to explain. 

“ After your departure,” said the grazier, “ I tried to get 
some work out of the infidels ; but they would not obey, and 
I believe they would have died before doing anything to 
make themselves useful. As I am a poor man, I could not 
afford to keep them in idleness, nor to kill them, which I 
had a strong inclination to do. The day after you left me, 
I received intelligence from Swearah which commanded me 
to go there immediately on business of importance ; and 
tliinking that possibly some Christian fool in that place might 
give something for their infidel countrymen, I took the slaves 
along with me. 

“ They promised that if I would take them to the Eng- 
lish Consul, he would pay a large price for their ransom. 
When we entered Mogador, and reached the Consul’s house, 
the dogs told me that they were free, and defied me trying 
to take them out of the city, or obtaining anything for my 
trouble or expense. The governor of Swearah and the Em- 
peror of Morocco are on good terms with the infidel’s gov- 
ernment, and they also hate us Arabs of the desert. There 
is no justice there for us. If you take your slaves into the 
city you will lose them.** 

“ I shall not take them into the empire of Morocco,” said 
Bo Muzem, “until I have first received the money for 
them.” 

“ You will never get it in Swearah. Their consul will not 
pay a dollar, but will try to get them liberated without giv- 
mg you anything.” 

“ But I have a letter from one of my slaves to his uncle, 
— a nut merchant in Swearah. The uncle must pay the 
money.” 

“ The slave has lied to you. He has no uncle there, and 


BO MUZEM’S JOURNEY. 


299 


I can soon convince you that snch is the case. There is 
ill tiiis place a Mogador Jew, who is acquainted with 
every infidel merchant in that place, and he also understands 
the languages they speak. Let him see the letter.” 

Anxious to be convinced as to whether he was being de- 
ceived or not. Bo Muzem readily agreed to this proposition ; 
and in company with the graziers, he repaired to the house 
where the Jew was staying for the night. 

The Jew, on being shown the letter, and asked to whom 
it was addressed, replied, — 

“ To any English merchant in Mogador.” 

“ Bismillah ! ” exclaimed Bo Muzem. ‘‘ All English 
merchants cannot be uncles to the young dog who wrote this 
letter.” 

“ Tell me,” added he, ‘‘ did you ever hear of an English 
merchant in SwCarah named ‘ For God sake byas ? * ” 

The Jew smiled, and with some difficulty restraining an in- 
clination to laugh outright at the question, gave the Ai’ab a 
translation of the words, “ For God’s sake buy us.” 

Bo Muzem was now satisfied that he had been “ sold.” 

“ I shall go no farther,” said he, after they had parted 
with the Jew. “I shall return to my partners. We will 
kill the Christian dog who wrote the letter, and sell the rest 
for what we can get for them.” 

^ That is your best plan,” rejoined the grazier. “ They 
do not deserve freedom, and may Allah forbid that hereafter 
any true believers should try to help them to it.” 

Early the next morning Bo Muzem set out on his return 
journey, thankful for the good fortune that had enabled him 
so early to detect the imposture that was being practised 
upon him. 

He was accompanied by the grazier, who chanced to be 
journeying in the same direction. 

“ The next Christian slaves I see for sale I intend to buy 
fcliem,” remarked the latter, as they journeyed along. 


300 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Bismallah ! ” exclaimed Bo Muzem, “ that is strange. 
I thought you had had enough of them ? ” 

“ So I have,” answered the grazier ; “ but that ’s just why 
I want more of them. I want revenge on the unbelieving 
dogs ; and will buy them for the purpose of obtaining it. I 
work them until they are too old to do anything, and then 
let them die of hunger.” 

“ Then buy those we have for sale,” proposed Bo Muzem. 
We are willing to sell them cheap, all but one. The one 
who wrote this letter I shall kill. I have sworn it by the 
prophet’s beard.” 

As both parties appeared anxious for a bargain, they soon 
came to an understanding as to the terms ; and the grazier 
promised to give ten dollars in money, and four head of 
horses for each of the slaves that were for sale. He also 
agreed that one of his herdsmen should assist in driving the 
cattle to any Arab settlement where a market might be 
found for them. 

The simple Bo Muzem had now in reality been ‘‘ sold,” 
for the story he had been told about the escape of the two 
slaves, Terence and Jim, was wholly and entirely false. 


CHAPTER LXXIX 

RAIS MOURAD. 

S IX days passed, during which the white slaves were 
comparatively well treated, far better than at any other 
time since their shipwreck. They were not allowed to suffer 
with thirst, and were supplied wdth nearly as much food as 
they required. 

On the sixth day after the departure of Bo Muzem, they 


RAIS MOURAD. 


301 


T\ ere visited by their masters, accompanied by a stranger, 
who was a Moor. 

They were commanded to get upon their feet ; and were 
then examined by the Moor in a manner that awakened 
suspicion that he was about to buy them. 

The Moor wore a caftan richly embroidered on the breast 
and sleeves ; and confined around the waist with a silken 
vest or girdle. 

A pair of small yellow Morocco-leather boots were seen 
beneath trowsers of great width, made of the finest satin, 
and on his head was worn a turban of scarlet silk. 

Judging from the respect shown to him by the merchants, 
he was an individual of much importance. This was also 
evident from the number of his followers, all of whom were 
mounted on beautiful Arabian horses, the trappings of 
which were made from the finest and most delicately shaded 
leathers, bestudded beautifully with precious metals and 
stones. 

The appearance of his whole retinue gave evidence that 
he was some personage of wealth and influence. 

After he had examined the slaves, he retired with the two 
merchants ; and shortly afterwards the Krooman learnt from 
one of the followers that the white slaves had become the 
property of the wealthy Moor. 

The bright anticipations of liberty that had filled their 
souls for the last few days, vanished at this intelligence. 
Each felt a shock of pain, — of hopeless despair, — that for 
some moments stunned them almost to speechlessness. 

Harry Blount was the first to awaken to the necessity of 
action. 

“ Where are our masters the merchants ? ” he exclaimed. 

They cannot — they shall not sell us. Come, all of you 
follow me ! ” 

Reaching forth from the pens that had been allowed them 
for a residence, the young Englishman, followed by his com- 


302 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


panions, started towards the dwelling of the sheik, to which 
the merchants and the Moor had retired. 

All were now excited with disappointment and despair ; 
and on reaching the sheik’s house, the two Arab merchants 
were called out to witness a scene of anger and grief. 

Why have you sold us ? ” asked the Krooman when the 
merchant came forth. “ Have you not promised that we 
should be taken to Swearah, and has not one gone there to 
obtain the money for our ransom ? ” 

The merchants were on good terms with themselves and 
all the world besides. They had made what they believed 
to be a good bargain ; and were in a humor for being agree- 
able. 

Moreover they did not wish to be thought guilty of a 
wrong, even by Christian slaves, and they therefore conde- 
scended to give some explanation. 

“ Suppose,” said one of them, that our master Bo Muzem 
should find a man in Swearah who is willing to ransom you, 
how much are we to get for you ? ” 

“ One hundred dollars for me,” answered the Kroon^an, 
“ and one hundred and fifty for each of the others.” 

“ True ; and for that we should have to take you to 
Swearah, and be at the expense of feeding you along the 
road ? ” 

«Yes.” 

“ Well, Rais Mourad, a wealthy Moor, has paid us one 
hundred and fifty dollars for each of you ; and would we not 
be fools to take you all the way to Swearah for less money ? 
Besides we might never get paid at Swearah, — whereas we 
have received it in cash from Rais Mourad. You are no 
longer our slaves, but his.” 

When the Krooman had made this communication to the 
others, they saw that all further parley with the Arab mer- 
chants was useless ; and that their fate was now in the hands 
of Rais Mourad. 


RAIS MOURAD. 


303 


At Harry’s request, the Krooman endeavored to ascertain 
in what direction the Moor was going to take them ; but the 
only information they received was that Rais Mourad knew 
his own business, and was not in the habit of confferring with 
his slaves as to what he should do with them. 

Some of the followers of the Moor now came forward ; 
and the slaves were ordered back to their pen, where they 
found some food awaiting them. They were commanded to 
eat it immediately, as they were soon to set forth upon a 
long journey. 

Not one of them, after their cruel disappointment, had 
any appetite for eating ; and Sailor Bill doggedly declared 
that he would never taste food again. 

“ Don’t despair. Bill,” said Harry ; “ there is yet hope 
for us.” . 

“Where? — where is it?” exclaimed Colin; “I can’t 
perceive it.” 

“ If we are constantly changing owners,” argued Harry, 

we may yet fall into the hands of some one who will take 
ns to Mogador.” 

“ Is that your only hope ? ” asked Colin, in a tone of dis- 
appointment. 

“ Think of poor Jim,” added Bill ; he ’s ’ad fifty masters, 
> — been ten years in slavery, and not free yet ; and no hope 
dn it neyther.” 

“ Shall we go quietly with our new master ? ” asked 
Colin. 

“ Yes,” answered Harry ; “ I have had quite enough of 
resistance, and the beating that is sure to follow it. My 
back is raw at this moment. The next time I make any 
resistance, it shall be when there is a chance of gaining 
lomething by it, besides a sound thrashing.” 

Rias Mourad being unprovided with animals for his slaves 
io ride upon, and wishing to travel at a greater speed than 
Ihcj could walk, purchased four small horses from the sheik, 


304 


THE BOY SIAVES. 


and it was during the time these horses were being caught 
and made ready for the road, that the slaves were allowed 
to eat their dinner. 

Although Harry, as well as the others, had determined 
on making no opposition to going away with Rias Mourad, 
they were very anxious to learn where he intended to take 
them. 

All the inquiries made by the Krooman for the purpose 
of gratifying their curiosity, only produced the answer, 
“ God knows, and will not tell you. Why should we do more 
than Him ? ” 

Just as the horses were brought out, and all were nearly 
ready for a start, there was heard a commotion at the gate 
of the town ; and next moment Bo Muzem, accompanied by 
three other Arabs, rode in through the gateway. 


CHAPTER LXXX. 

BO MUZEM BACK AGAIN. 

A S soon as the white slaves recognized Bo Muzem, they 
all rushed forward to meet him. 

“ Speak, Krooman ! ” exclaimed Harry. “ Ask him if the 
money for our ransom will be paid ? If so, we are free, and 
they dare not sell us again.” 

“Here, — here!” exclaimed Bill, pointing to one of the 
Arabs who came with Bo Muzem. “ Ax this man where 
be brother Jim an* Master Terence ? ” 

Harry and Colin turned towards the man from whom Bill 
desired this inquiry to be made, and recognized in him the 
grazier, to whom Terence and Jim had been sold. 

The Krooman had no opportunity for putting the ques- 


BO MUZEM BACK AGAIN. 


305 


tion ; for Bo Muzem, on drawing near to the gate of the 
town, had allowed his passion to mount into a violent rage ; 
and as he beheld the slaves, shouted out, “ Christian dogs I 
you have deceived me. Let every man, woman, and child, 
in this town assemble, and be witnesses of the fate that this 
lying Christian so richly deserves. Let all witness the death 
of this young infidel, who has falsely declared he has an 
uncle in Swearah, named ‘ For God’s sake buy us.’ Let all 
witness the revenge Bo Muzem will take on the unbelieving 
dog who has deceived him.” 

As soon as Bo Muzem’s tongue was stopped sufficiently 
to enable him to hear the voices of those around him, he 
was informed that the slaves were all sold, — the nephew 
of “ For God’s sake buy us,” among the rest, and on better 
terms than he and his partners had expected to get at 
Swearah, 

Had Harry Blount been rescued. Bo Muzem would have 
been much pleased at this news ; but he now declared that 
his partners had no right to sell without his concurrence, — 
that he owned an interest in them ; and that the one who 
had deceived him should not be sold, but should suffer the 
penalty incurred, by sending him on his long and fruitless 
journey. 

Rais Mourad now came upon the ground. The Moor was 
not long in comprehending all the circumstances connected 
with the affair. He ordered his followers to gather around 
ihe white slaves and escort them outside the walls of the town. 

Bo Muzem attempted to prevent this order from being 
executed. He was opposed by everybody, not only by the 
Moor, but his own partners, as well as the sheik of the town, 
who declared that there should be no blood spilled among 
those partaking of his hospitality. 

The slaves were mounted on the horses that had been 
provided for them, and then conducted through the gateway 
leaving Bo Muzem half frantic with impotent rage. 

T 


306 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


There was but one man to sympathize with him in his 
disappointment, the grazier to whom Terence and Jim 
had been sold, and who had made arrangements for the pur- 
chase of the others. 

Biding up to the Moor, this man declared that the slaves 
were his property ; that he had purchased them the day be- 
fore, and had given four horses and ten dollars in money for 
each. 

He loudly protested against being robbed of his property, 
and declared that he would bring two hundred men, if nec- 
essary, for the purpose of taking possession of his own. 

Bais Mourad, paying no attention to this threat, gave or- 
ders to his followers to move on ; and, although it was now 
almost night, started off in the direction of Santa Cruz. 

Before they had proceeded far, they perceived the Arab 
grazier riding at full speed in the opposite direction, and to- 
wards his own home. 

“ I wish that we had made some inquiries of that fellow 
about Jim and Terence,” said Colin; “but it’s too late 
now.” 

“ Yes, too late,” echoed Harry, “ and I wish that he had 
obtained possession of us instead of our present master. We 
should then have all come together again. But what are 
we to think of this last turn of Fortune’s wheel ? ” 

“ I am rather pleased at it,” answered Colin. “ A while 
ago we were in despair, because the Moor had bought us. 
That was a mistake. If he had not done so, you Harry 
would have been killed.” 

“ Bill ! ” added the young Scotchman, turning to the old 
sailor, “ what are you dreaming about ? ” 

“Nothing,” answered Bill, “I’m no goin to drame or 
think any mair.” 

“We ah gwine straight for Swearah,” observed the Kroo- 
man as he spoke, glancing towards the northwest. 

“ That is true,” exclaimed Harry, looking in the same di- 


BO MUZEM BACK AGAIN. 


307 


rection. ‘‘ Can it be that we are to be taken into the em- 
pire of Morocco ? If so, there is hope for us yet.” 

‘‘ But Bo Muzem could find no one who would pay the 
money for our ransom,” interposed Colin. 

“ He nebba go thar,” said the Krooman. “ He nebba 
had de time.” 

‘‘I believe the Krooman is right,” said Harry. “Wo 
have been told that Mogador is four days’ journey from here, 
and the Arab was gone but six days.” 

The conversation of the slaves was interrupted by the 
Moors, who kept constantly urging them to greater speed. 

The night came on very dark, but Rais Mourad would 
not allow them to move at a slower pace. 

Sailor Bill, being as he declared unused to “ navigate any 
sort o’ land craft,” could only keep his seat on the animal 
he bestrode, by allowing it to follow the others, while he 
clutched its mane with a firm grasp of both hands. 

The journey was continued until near midnight, when the 
old sailor, unable any longer to endure the fatigue, managed 
to check the pace of his horse, and dismount. 

The Moors endeavored to make him proceed, but were 
unsuccessfijl. 

Bill declared that should he again be placed on the horse, 
he should probably fall off* and break his neck. 

This was communicated to Rais Mourad, who had turned 
back in a rage to inquire the cause of the delay. It was 
the Krooman who acted as interpreter. 

The Moor’s anger immediately subsided on learning that 
one of the slaves could speak Arabic. 

“ Do you and your companions wish for freedom ? ” asked 
the Moor, addressing himself to the Krooman. 

“We pray for it every hour.” 

“Then tell that foolish man that freedom is not found 
here — that to obtain it he must move on with me.” 

The Krooman made the communication as desired. 


308 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


“ I don’t want to hear any mote about freedom,” answered 
Bill ; “ I ’ve ’eard enough ov it. If any on ’em is goin’ to 
give us a chance for liberty, let ’em do it without so many 
promises.” 

The old sailor remained obstinate. 

Neither entreaties nor threats could induce him to go 
farther ; and Eais Mourad gave orders to his followers to 
halt upon the spot, as he intended to stay there for the re- 
mainder of the night. The halt was accordingly made, and 
a temporary camp established. 

Although exhausted with their long, rough ride, Harry 
and Colin could not sleep. The hope of liberty was glowing 
too brightly within their bosoms. 

This hope had not been inspired by anything that had 
been said or done by Rais Mourad ; for they now placed no 
trust in the promises of any one. 

Their hopes were simply based upon the belief that they 
were now going towards Mogador, that the Moor, their mas- 
ter, was an intelligent man — a man who might know that 
he would not lose his money by taking English subjects to a 
place where they would be sure of being ransomed. 


CHAPTER LXXXI. 

A punsuiT. 

A t the first appearance of day, Rais Mourad ordered 
the march to be resumed, over a long ridge of sand. 
The sun soon after rising, on a high hill about four leagues 
distant were seen the white walls of the city of Santa Cruz, 
or, as it is called by the Arabs, Agadez. Descending the 
€and ridge, the cavalcade moved over a level plain covered 


A PURSUIT. 


309 


with grain crops, and dotted here and there with small walled 
villages surronnded by plantations of vines and date-trees. 

At one of the villages near the road the cavalcade made 
a halt, and was admitted within the walls. Throwing them- 
selves down in the shade of some date-trees, the white slaves 
soon fell into a sound slumber. 

Three hours after they were awakened to eat a small com- 
pound of hot barley-cakes and honey. 

Before they had finished their repast, Rais Mourad came 
up to the spot, and began a conversation with the Krooman. 

“ What does the Moor say ? ” inquired Harry. 

“ He say dat if we be no bad, and we no cheat him, he 
take us to Sweareh, to de English Consul.” 

“ Of course we will promise that, or anything else,” as- 
sented Harry, “ and keep the promise too, if we can. He 
will be sure to be well paid for us. Tell him that ! ” 

The Krooman obeyed ; and the Moor, in reply, said that 
he was well aware that he would be paid something by the 
Consul, but that he required a written promise from the 
slaves themselves as to the amount. 

He wanted them to sign an agreement that he should be 
paid two hundred dollars for each one of them. 

This they readily assented to, and the Moor then pro- 
duced a piece of paper, a reed, and some ink. 

Rais Mourad wrote the agreement himself in Arabic, on 
one side of the paper, and then, reading it sentence by sen- 
tence, requested the Krooman to translate it to his com- 
panions. 

The translation given by the Krooman was — 

‘‘ To English Consul, — 

“ We be four Christian slave. Rais Mourad buy us of 
Arab. We promise to gib him two hundred dollar for one, 
or eight hundred dollar for four, if he take us to you. Please 
pay him quick.” 


310 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


Harry and Colin signed the paper without any hesitation, 
and it was then handed with the pen to Sailor Bill. 

The old sailor took the paper ; and, after carefully sur- 
veying every object around him, walked up to one of the 
saddles lying on the ground a few paces off. 

Spreading the paper on the saddle, he sat down, and very 
deliberately set about the task of making his autograph. 

Slowly as the hand of a clock moving over the face of a 
dial. Bill’s hand passed over the paper, while his head oscil- 
lated from side to side as each letter was formed. 

After Bill had succeeded in painting a few characters 
which, in his opinion, expressed the name of William Mc- 
Neal, Harry was requested to write a similar agreement on 
the other side of the paper, which they were also to sign. 

Rais Mourad was determined on being certain that his 
slaves had put their names to such an agreement as he 
wished, and therefore had written it himself, so that he 
might not be deceived. 

About two hours before sunset all were again in the sad- 
dle ; and, riding out of the gateway, took a path leading up 
the mountain on which stands the city of Santa Cruz. 

When about half-way up, a party of horsemen, between 
twenty and thirty in number, was seen coming after them at 
full speed. 

Rais Mourad remembered the threat made by the grazier 
who claimed the slaves as his property, and every exertmn 
was made to reach the city befo?e his party could be over- 
taken. 

The horses ridden by the white slaves were small ani- 
mals, in poor condition, and were unable to move up the 
hill with much speed, although their riders had been reduced 
by starvation to the very lightest of weights. 

Before reaching the level plain on the top of the hill, the 
pursuers gained on them rapidly, and had lessened the dis- 
tance between the two parties by nearly half a mile. The 


A PURSUIT. 


311 


Nearest gate of the city was still more than a mile ahead, 
and towards it the Moors urged their horses with all the 
energy that could be inspired by oaths, kicks, and blows. 

As they neared the gate the herds of their pursuers were 
seen just rising over the crest of the hill behind them. But 
as Rais Mourad saw that his slaves were now safe, he 
checked his steed, and the few yards that remained of the 
journey were performed at a slow pace, for the Moor did not 
wish to enter the gate of a strange city in a hasty or undig- 
nified manner. 

No delay on passing the sentinels, and in five minutes 
more the weary slaves dismounted from their nearly ex- 
hausted steeds, and were commanded by Rais Mourad to 
thank God that they had -arrived safe in the Empire of 
Morocco, 

In less than a quarter of an hour after Bo Muzem and 
the grazier rode through the gateway, accompanied by a 
troop of fierce-looking Arab horsemen. 

The wrath of the merchant seemed to have waxed greater 
in the interval, and he appeared as if about to make an im- 
mediate attack upon Harry Blount, the chief object of his 
spiteful vengeance. 

In this he was prevented by Rais Mourad, who appealed 
to an officer of the city guard to protect him. 

The officer informed the merchant that while within the 
walls of the city he must not molest other people, and Bo 
Muzem was compelled to give his word that he would not 
do so : that is to say, he was bound over to keep the peace. 

The other Arabs, in whose company they had come, were 
also given to understand that they were in a Moorish city ; 
and, as they saw that they were powerless to do harm with- 
out meeting with punishment, their fierce deportment soon 
gave way to a demeanor more befitting the streets of a 
civilized town. 

Both pursued and pursuers were cautioned against any 


312 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


infringement of the laws of the place ; and as a different quar- 
ter was assigned to each party, all chances of a conflict were, 
for the time, happily frustrated. 


CHAPTER LXXXII. 

MOORISH JUSTICE. 

T he next morning, Rais Mourad was summoned to 
appear before the governor of the city. He was or- 
dered, also, to bring his slaves along with him. He had no 
reluctance in obeying these orders, and a soldier conducted 
him and his followers to the governor’s house. 

Bo Muzem and the grazier were there before them ; and 
the governor soon after made his appearance in the room 
where both parties were waiting. 

He was a flne-looking man, of venerable aspect, about six- 
ty-flve years of age, and, from his appearance, Harry and 
Colin had but little fear of the result of his decision in an 
appeal that might be made against them. 

Bo Muzem was the first to speak. He stated that, in 
partnership with two other merchants, he had purchased the 
four slaves then present. He had never given his consent 
to the sale made by his partners to the Moor ; and there 
was one of them whom it had been distinctly understood 
was not to be sold at all. That slave he now claimed as his 
own property. He had been commissioned by his partners 
to go to Swearah, and there dispose of the slaves. He had 
sold the other two to his friend Mahommed, who was pres- 
ent. He had no claim on them. Mahommed, the grazier, 
was their present owner. 

The grazier was now called upon to make his statement. 


MOORISH JUSTICE. 


313 


This was soon done. All he had to say was, that he had 
purchased three Christian slaves from his friend, Bo Muzem, 
and had given four horses ayd ten dollars in money for each 
of them. They had been taken away by force by the Moor, 
Rais Mourad, from whom he now claimed them. 

Rais Mourad was next called upon to answer the accusa- 
tion. The question was put, why he retained possession of 
another man’s property. 

In reply, he stated that he had purchased them of two 
Arab merchants, and had paid for them on the spot ; giving 
one hundred and fifty silver dollars for each. 

After the Moor had finished his statement, the governor 
remained silent for an interval of two or three minutes. 

Presently, turning to Bo Muzem, he asked, “ Did your 
partners offer you a share of the money they received for 
the slaves ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered the merchant, “ but I would not accept 
it.” * 

‘‘ Have you, or your partners, received from the man, who 
claims three of the slaves, twelve horses and thirty dol- 
lars ? ” 

After some hesitation. Bo Muzem answered in the nega- 
tive. 

“ The slaves belong to the Moor, Rais Mourad, who has 
paid the money for them,” said the governor, “ and they shall 
not be taken from him here. Depart from my presence, all 
of you.” 

All retired, and, as they did so, the grazier was heard to 
mutter that there was no justice for Arabs in Morocco. 

Rais Mourad gave orders to his followers to prepare for 
the road ; and just as they were ready to start, he request- 
ed Bo Muzem to accompany him outside the walls of the 
city. 

The merchant consented, on condition that his friend Ma- 
hommed the grazier should go along with them. 

14 


314 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


My friend,” said Rais Mourad, addressing Bo Muzem, 
“ you have been deceived. Had you taken these Christians 
to Swearah, as you promised, you would have certainly been 
paid for them all that you could reasonably have asked. I 
live in Swearah, and was obliged to make a journey to the 
south upon urgent business. Fortunately, on my return, I 
met with your partners, and bought their slaves from them. 
The profit I shall make on them will more than repay me 
all the expenses of my journey. The man Mahommed, 
whom you call your friend, has bought two other Christians. 
He has sold them to the English Consul. Having made 
two hundred dollars by that transaction, he was anxious to 
trade you out of these others, and make a few hundred more. 
He was deceiving you for the purpose of obtaining them. 
There is but one God, Mahomet is his prophet, and you are 
a fool ! ” 

Bo Muzem required no further evidence in confirmation 
of the truth of this statement. He could not doubt that the 
Moor was an intelligent man, who knew what he was about 
when buying the slaves. The grazier Mahommed had cer- 
tainly purchased the two slaves spoken of, had acknowledged 
having carried them to Swearah, and was now anxious to 
obtain the others. 

All was clear to him now ; and for a moment he stqod 
mute and motionless, under a sense of shame at his own 
stupidity. 

This feeling was succeeded by one of wild rage against 
the man who had so craftily outwitted him. 

Drawing his scimitar, he rushed towards the grazier, who, 
having been attentive to all that was said, was not whoUy 
unprepared for the attack. 

The Arabs never acquire much skill in the use of the 
scimitar, and an affair between them with these weapons is 
soon decided. 

The contest between the merchant and his antagonist was 


MOORISH JUSTICE. 


315 


not an exception to other affrays between their countrymen. 
It was a strife for life or death, witnessed by the slaves who 
felt no sympathy for either of the combatants. 

A mussulman in a quarrel generally places more depend- 
ence on the justice of his cause than either on his strength 
or skill ; and when such is not the case much of his natural 
prowess is lost to him. 

Confident in the rectitude of his indignation, Bo Muzem, 
with his Mohammedan ideas of fatalism, was certain that 
the hour had not yet arrived for him to die ; nor was he 
mistaken. 

His impetuous onset could not be resisted by a man un- 
fortified with the belief that he had acted justly : and Ma- 
hoamed the grazier was soon sent to the ground, rolling in 
the dust in the agonies of death. 

“ There ^s one less on ’em anyhow,” exclaimed Sailor Bill, 
as he saw the Arab cease to live. “ I wish he had brought 
brother Jem and Master Terence here. I wonder what he 
has done wi’ ’em ? ” 

“We should learn, if possible,” answered Harry, “ and be- 
fore we get any farther away from them. Suppose we 
speak to the Moor about them ? He may be able to obtain 
them in some way.” 

At Harry’s request, the Krooman proceeded to make the 
desired communication, but was prevented by Rais Mourad 
ordering the slaves into their places for the purpose of 
continuing the journey which this tragic incident had inter- 
rupted. 

After cautioning Bo Muzem to beware of the followers 
of Mahommed, who now lay dead at their feet, the Moor, 
at the head of his kafila, moved off in the direction of Mo- 
gador. 


316 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


CHAPTER LXXXIII. 

THE Jew’s leap. 

T he road followed by Rais Mourad on the day after 
leaving Santa Cruz was through a country of very 
uneven surface. 

Part of the time the kafila would be in a narrow valley 
by the sea-shore, and in the next hour following a zigzag 
path on the side of some precipitous mountain. 

In such places the kafila would have to proceed in single 
file, while the Moors would be constantly cautioning the 
slaves against falling from the backs of their animals. 

While stopping for an hour at noon for the horses to rest, 
the Krooman turned over a fiat stone, and underneath it 
found a large scorpion. 

After making a hole in the sand about six inches deep, 
and five or six in diameter, he put the reptile into it. 

He then went in search of a few more scorpions to keep 
the prisoner company. Under nearly every stone he turned 
over, one or two of these reptiles were found, all of which 
were cast into the hole where he had placed the first. 

When he had secured about a dozen within the prison from 
which they could not escape, he began teasing them with a 
stick. 

Enraged at this treatment the reptiles commenced a mor- 
tal combat among themselves, a sight which was witnessed 
by the white slaves with about the same interest as that be- 
tween the two Arabs in the morning. In other words, they 
did not care which got the worst of it. 

A battle between two scorpions would commence with 
much active skirmishing on both sides, each seeking to fasten 
its claws on the other. 

When one of the reptiles would succeed in getting a fair 


THE JEW’S LEAP. 


317 


grip, its adversary would exhibit every disposition to surren- 
der, apparently begging for its life, but all to no purpose, as 
no quarter would be given. 

The champion would inflict the fatal sting; and the 
unfortunate reptile receiving it would die immediately 
after. 

After all the scorpions had been killed except one, the 
Krooman himself finished the survivor with a blow of his 
stick. 

When rebuked by Harry for what the latter regarded as 
an act of wanton cruelty, he answered that it was the duty 
of every man to kill scorpions. 

In the afternoon they reached a place called the Jew’s 
Leap. It was a narrow path along the side of a mountain, 
the base of which was washed by the sea. 

The path was about half a mile long and not more than 
four or five feet broad. The right hand side was bounded 
by a wall of rocks, in some places perpendicular and rising 
to a height of several hundred feet. 

On the left hand side was the sea, about four hundred feet 
below the level of the path. 

There was no hope for any one who should fall from this 
path, — no hope but heaven. 

Not a bush, tree, or any obstacle was seen to oflTer the 
slightest resistance to the downward course of a falling 
body. 

The Krooman had passed this way before, and informed 
his companions that no one ever ventured on the path in 
wet weather ; that it was at all times considered dangerous ; 
but that, as it saved a tiresome journey of seven miles around 
the mountain, it was generally taken in dry weather. He 
also told them that the name of “Jew’s Leap” was given 
to the precipice, from a party of J§ws having once been 
forced over it. 

It was in the night-time. They had met a numerous 


S18 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


party of Moors coming in the opposite direction. Neither 
party could turn back, a contest arose, and several on both 
sides were hurled over the precipice into the sea. 

On this occasion as many Moors as Jews had been thrown 
from the path ; but it had pleased the former to give the 
spot the name of the “ Jew’s Leap,” which it still bears. 

Before venturing upon this dangerous road, Rais Mourad 
was careful to see that no one was coming from the opposite 
direction. 

After shouting at the top of his voice, and hearing no 
reply, he led the way, bidding his followers to trust more to 
their animals than to themselves. 

As the white slaves entered on the pass, two Moors were 
left behind to follow them, and when all had proceeded a 
*hort distance along the ledge, the horse ridden by Harry 
Blount became frightened. It was a young animal, and 
having been reared on the plains of the desert, was unused 
to mountain-road. 

While the other horses were walking along very cau- 
tiously, Harry’s steed suddenly stopped, and refused to go 
any farther. 

In such a place a rider has good cause to be alarmed at 
any eccentricity of behavior in the animal he bestrides, and 
Harry was just preparing to dismount, when the animal 
commenced making a retrogade movement, as if determined 
to turn about. 

Harry was behind his companions, and closely followed 
by one of the Moors. The latter becoming alarmed for his 
own safety, struck the young Englishman’s horse a blow 
with his musket to make it move forward. 

The next instant the hind legs of the refractory animal 
were over the edge of the precipice, and its body, with the 
weight of its rider clinging to his neck, was about evenly 
balanced as on the brink. The horse made a violent strug- 
gle to avoid going over, with its nose and fore feet laid close 


CONCLUSION. 


319 


along the path, and vainly striving to regain the position 
from which it had so imprudently parted. 

At this moment its rider determined to make a desperate 
exertion for his life. 

Seizing the horse by the ears, and drawing himself up, 
he placed one foot on the brink of the precipice, and then 
sprang clear over the horse’s head, just as the animal relin- 
quished its hold ! In another instant the unfortunate quad- 
ruped was precipitated into the sea, its body striking the 
water with a dull plunge, as if the life had already gone 
out of it. 

The remainder of the ledge was traversed without any 
difficulty ; and after all had got safely over, Harry’s com- 
panions were loud in congratulating him upon his narrow 
escape. 

The youth remained silent. 

• His soul was too full of gratitude to God to give any 
heed to the words of man. 


CHAPTER LXXXIV. 

CONCLUSION. 

O N the evening of the second day after passing the 
Jew’s Leap, Rais Mourad, with his following, reached 
the city of Mogador ; but too late to enter its gates, which 
were closed for the night. 

For a great part of the night, Harry, Colin, and Sailor 
Bill were unable to sleep. 

They were kept awake by the memory of the sufferings 
they had endured in slavery, but more by the anticipation 
of liberty, which they believed to be ’how near. 


320 


THE BOY SLAVES. 


They arose with the sun call, impatient to enter the city, 
and learn their fate. Rais Mourad, knowing that no busi- 
ness could be done until three or four hours later, would not 
permit them to pass into the gate. 

For three hours they waited with the greatest impatience. 
So strongly had their minds been elated with the prospect 
of getting free, that the delay was creating the opposite ex- 
treme of despair, when they were again elated at the sight 
of Rais Mourad returning to them. 

Giving the command to his followers, he led the way into 
the city. 

After passing through several narrow streets, on turning 
a corner, they saw waving over the roof of one of the houses 
a sight that filled them with joy inexpressible. It was the 
flag of Old England ! 

It indicated the residence of the English consul. On see- 
ing it all three gave forth a loud simultaneous cheer, and 
hastened forward, in the midst of a crowd of Moorish men, 
women, and children. 

Rais Mourad knocked at the gate of the consulate, which 
was opened ; and the white slaves were ushered into the 
court-yard. At the same instant two individuals came run- 
ning forth from the house. They were Terence and Jim ! 

A fine looking man about fifty years of age, now stepped 
forward ; and taking Harry and Colin by the hand, congrat- 
ulated them on the certainty of soon recovering their liberty. 

The presence of Terence and Jim in the consulate at 
Mogador, was soon explained. The Arab grazier, after buy- 
ing them, had started immediately for Swearah, taking his 
slaves with him. On bringing them to the English consul 
he was paid a ransom, and they were at once set free. At 
the same time he had given his promise to purchase the 
other slaves and bring them to Mogador. 

The consul made no hesitation in paying the price that 
had been promised for Harry, Colin, and Bill ; but he did 


CONCLUSION. 


321 


not consider himself justified in expending the money of his 
government in the redemption of the Krooman, who was 
not an English subject. 

The poor fellow was overwhelmed with despair at the 
prospect of being restored to a life of slavery. 

His old companions in misfortune could not remain tran- 
quil spectators of his grief. They promised he should be 
free. Each of the middies had wealthy friends on whom he 
could draw for money, and they were in hopes that some 
English merchant in the city would advance the amount. 

They were not disappointed. On the very next day the 
Krooman’s difficulty was settled to his satisfaction. 

The consul having mentioned his case to several foreign 
merchants, a subscription-list was opened, and the amount 
necessary to the purchase of his freedom was easily ob- 
tained. 

The three mids were furnished with plenty of everything 
they required, and only waited the arrival of some English 
ship to carry them back to the shores of their native land. 

They had not long to wait; for shortly after, the tail 
masts of a British man-of-war threw their shadows athwart 
the waters of Mogador Bay. 

The three middies were once more installed in quarters 
that befitted them: while Sailor Bill and his brother, as 
well as their Krooman comrade, found a welcome in the 
forecastle of the man-of-war. 

All three of the young ofllcers rose to rank and distinc- 
tion in the naval service of their country. It was their good 
fortune often to come in contact with each other, and talk 
laughingly of that terrible time, no longer viewed with dread 
or aversion, when all three of them were serving their ap- 
prenticeship as Boy Slaves in the Saara. 


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